


SJ-1985: Failed

by Solarist



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe - 2000s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, F/M, Gangsters, Government, Mystery, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Plot, Police, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Sensuality, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29097246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solarist/pseuds/Solarist
Summary: Modern AU where Kikyo, an ex-cop, and Naraku, a small-scale ring leader, are in an on-and-off relationship, trying to beat one another to the Shikon Jewel.(The "Failed" in the title is part of the title... not that this fic failed. Just clearing up any confusion :)))
Relationships: Kikyou/Naraku (InuYasha)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue

For some reason, the TV was flashing images, but no sound was coming out.

Even after my vision returned, I was quiet. 

The sensation of trembling, legs shaking without the brain telling them to do so. The sheets were cold... but it was good. They sucked in the sweat from the skin. 

My eyes darted from each person in the room. They were also quiet; the woman scanned me with bored curiosity, the girl sitting next to the bed didn’t seem to see me. 

“What happened?” It was an automatic question. 

The man standing against the wall raised his eyes from the letter. He folded it and walked over. I instinctively wanted to shrink away, but when he sat down on the edge of the bed, he barely touched me. 

“Do you remember anything, Kohaku?”

I strained my brain. All black. I clenched my teeth, trying to remember something. No way.... no way...

“Don’t pressure yourself,” the girl emotionlessly commented. 

“Kohaku.” The man’s voice was very soft. “Your unit was killed .”

That’s... ridiculous. 

“You’re joking, sir,” I say very,  _ very  _ quietly. “They couldn’t all... not everyone... ” If only I had something to back my words with.... like a memory... The woman scoffed and flipped a remote control in her fingers. The volume bar speedily rose on the screen. I stared at the TV, its calm voice slipping and coiling inside my ears. 

“.... the United States and Mexico being their primary habitats. In general terms, black- tailed jackrabbits are found... ” 

“Wrong channel,” the girl pointed out. There wasn’t even aloofness inside her blank voice. 

The woman snapped her tongue in irritation. “I know.” 

I watched in loss as she sped through the channels, digging her nail into the button. I looked at the man in confusion. What are these people trying to show me? 

The torn out phrases and exclamations stabilized, and I returned my gaze on the TV. A man in a grey suit and yellow tie frantically spoke at me. 

“Twenty-three forty-eight, November seventeenth... A police unit carrying out the arrest of Dr. Kugutsu who was believed to be selling unregistered weaponry... ” The woman smirked. Even the man gave a short smile. Only the girl was silent, but I didn’t pay attention to them. The pixelated images flared one by one, detached from my brain and reality. 

“.... everyone was killed by a simple baton... ” 

My eyes shifted to the glistening, metal rod stained with blood the man was holding out to me. Relief rolled over when I recognized it - the one thing I remembered - before slowly cracking into something else...

“The only survivor being Kohaku Isobe... ” 

Horror. 

“.... whose current location is unknown.”


	2. Kaolinite Flower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kikyo

23: 03. 17/11/00. Arrivals. Shyashima to Osaki. 

I saw Kagome’s suitcase cheerfully bobbling on the carousel. Even squeezed between a black suitcase, a cumbersome pleated bag, and a taped-over box, I can clearly tell out the bright green and white polka dots. I have to give it to her. The chances of seeing the right suitcase among the numerous blacks and browns are incredibly high. As are the chances of it being stolen due to its unconventional color scheme. 

I let the happy suitcase pass next to me, but follow it with my eyes. 

They weren’t here yet. 

Neither is my suitcase. 

I tiredly rub the back of my head, stifling a yawn, and look around. The baggage reclaim area was filled with people; several flights came at once. However, it was relatively quiet, everyone was tired at this hour. Indistinctive murmuring, occasionally disturbed by the rattling of baggage wheels against the tactile paving near the glass doors. Then, somebody would try to lift up a heavy suitcase, inevitably hitting against the metal railings. 

Kagome’s suitcase passed me the second time. The thought of picking it up crosses my mind. My tired body protests. As a result, by the time I decided to let it go, the green-and-white polka dot suitcase turned around the corner anyway. 

I glance at the clock. It is just roughly 23:15. I begin yawning into the back of my hand but squelch it halfway. 

They’re here.

Kagome was yawning as well, unabashedly and somewhat adorably. Her hair is ruffled from sleep and she’s hugging an airplane pillow close to her chest. Sango seems more refined than her friend, but her lips are dry from the plane's stale air. Miroku looks best of them all, but the red eyes betray an allergic reaction. Probably the dust in the plane’s rug and seats. I transfer my eyes on Inuyasha. His face tells me that he is still sleeping and simply going in the direction of the crowd. As long as he doesn’t walk into the carousel.

I lower my head and look away. It is too late in the night. 

My legs start to hurt from standing. And it was only twenty minutes. 

Kagome and Miroku get their baggage first. I see my briefcase at the entrance, but it’s on the guys’s side. I watch how Sango picked it up and feel a twinge of shame. 

I meet the young woman halfway and take the handle. 

“Thank you.”

She curtly nods in response, and both of us return to our respective spots. I sense how Inuyasha’s gaze slowly clears up and travels across the room. I slightly move to the side, behind the large shoulders of the man in front of me. 

I shift a few people more and lose sight of the group. 

After a few minutes, I grab my small suitcase off the conveyor. The handle snaps, elongates, and I begin making my way out of the crowd. The ticket is still smashed between my fingers. 

I push the door with the side of my arm, and the night wind immediately catches my hair and throws it to the side. The asphalt breathes of recent rain, as do the droplet-sprinkled window panes of cars, some still having the shields sliding across the glass. I step to the side, away from the doors, and lift my head. There are just a couple of stars peeking from the grey clouds. 

“Do you have someone picking you up?” 

I lower my head and glance at Inuyasha. He’s standing hands in pockets, the red cap - put on backwards - nearly flying off his head. I seriously nod. 

“Yes. Taxi.” 

His eyes scrunch up and darken. 

“We can take you, you know.” 

I try not to picture how I would sit next to Kagome and Sango, occasionally meeting Shippo’s awkward gaze in the driving mirror and Miroku lightheartedly telling some anecdote to break the tension. 

“I’m good,” I shake my head and look at the cars driving by. The lights gleam in reds and oranges, along with pure white, bouncing from the black puddles. Inuyasha looks as well, silent. 

“Besides.” 

His eyes slide to my side at these words. 

“We have more important things to worry about then me getting home.” 

“Yeah.” It’s cold, and his sigh floats upward in a thin cloud before dissipating into nothing. 

“We didn’t find anything.” 

“And back to no leads,” I add, eyes wandering across the road. I see a yellow coating and stretch out my hand. The car rides across the puddles and comes to a rough stop. The driver scrambles out, and I push the suitcase towards him. Inuyasha hurriedly opens his mouth, but I speak first. 

“I’ll see tomorrow if anyone here picked up on anything while we were gone.” 

Inuyasha’s about to nod in relief but then wrinkles his brows. I’m already sitting down into the front seat and closing the door, when his nails catch the side. I look at him. 

“What?” 

“You’ll see the day after tomorrow, okay, Kikyo?” He presses, gazing at me with large, serious eyes. “Not tomorrow. Take a day to rest, at least.” 

I smile, and my facial muscles wince from exhaustion. 

“Alright.” 

He softly smiles back. “Well then. See ya, Kikyo.” 

“See you.” 

Inuyasha carefully closes the door, making sure it hits quietly. My smile slightly widens as I look at him through the rainy glass. 

“Where to?” 

“Tome-shi.” 

Inuyasha is still standing. His white hair flaps around his shoulders and bare arms. He was never cold. The driver started the engine, and I look away for a moment to tuck in the tickets into the briefcase. Setting it on my lap, I lean back and somewhat relax my shoulders. My eyes stop on the outside window. 

There are new people standing next to the airport entrance. 

My eyes move away. 

It started drizzling again, smearing the cars in the window. The bright lights become magnified through the water, and I lower my lids halfway. We stop at an intersection. 

“How was your trip?” 

I watch the window shields sweep across the glass, left and right like clock hands. 

“It was alright.” 

“Work?” The driver chanced. 

“Yes.” 

The red traffic light winks to green, and our conversation naturally sinks into silence. The aquamarine charm and the crumpled, faded and scentless from the years air freshener on the rearview mirror rock smoothly to the motion of the car. The familiar places behind the windows pass without any emotional response from my part. Yet I doubt any of the other guys are feeling anything as well. Even they are too worn out and dejected. 

The surroundings become more and more familiar. Brighter as well — neon, erratically flickering wires of shop titles, blinding light from stores’ windows, threatening red of parked, but started cars. Cigarette smoke, exhausts from pipes, simple breathing. Dark people. 

I don’t mind it. 

The driver stopped next to a two-story building. “Fifteen twenty-five.” 

I give him sixteen. As he’s fumbling with coins, my eyes skim the street.

“Your change.” 

Some paper and metal touch my palm. I automatically scan them without processing whether or not it’s the right amount and, shortly nodding, walk out.

The cold night loudly blows around me, but the bang of the door remains sharp and flinching. I take a deep breath and look around. The gas station from across the station doesn’t bother saluting me; I’m a staunch pedestrian. The driver hands me over the suitcase and I gratefully smile. 

“Thank you.” 

He smiles as well. “Good night.” 

I turn around and head towards the old door disapprovingly waiting for me. I search for keys in my pocket, on the way glimpsing behind the bottom floor window. The curtains behind the bars are tightly shut. 

Pushing down the handle, I enter and strain my eyes; all the lights are switched off. Carefully inching forward, I find the staircase and make my way to the second floor. 

I wonder if the fuse burnt out or something. Usually it’s bright as day even at three in the night. 

I bump into my apartment door. 

In a second, I unlock it. 

Something died. 

I sigh, lowering the briefcase to the floor and shoving the suitcase to the side. I keep the door open, allowing the stench to curl out on its own. Of course, until I force it out myself. I immediately make my way to the kitchen and, kneeling down, look under my sink: the trash can is filled with suspicious herbal leaves and fish leftovers. All rotting. It was probably Urasue. 

I pass my hand over my face, clenching it on the way to relieve the frustration. The need to take out trash snapped all the wrong nerves. My hand, defeated, dropped on my knee. Trying not to dwell on it too much, I yank the trash bag’s straps, construct a tight knot, and jerk it from the can. I kick the door shut on my way out. 

Outside, I lower the bag next to the bins; they are packed, white bags pouring out like stuffing, garbage sprinkling around in half a meter radius. I tuck my hands inside the pockets and look up at the convenience store flashing next to the gas station. 

Why not since I’m still awake. 

I quickly cross the street and push the black metal railing. Though I prepared myself, my eyes still painfully cringe at the blazing artificial lights. Hastily moving through the aisles, I grab what was most appealing at the moment: gum and orange juice. 

Fingers firmly holding both the gum box and the neck of the bottle, the free hand in the pocket, I absently examine the trinkets placed near the counter as I wait in the check-out line. There were a couple of chocolate bars, and I, after a short debate, took one. Firmly turning my back to them, I slightly lean on the counter and look up at the TV. 

“Welcome home. Was your mission successful, cop?” 

“No,” I sigh. Byakuya absently flips the magazine pages, occasionally stopping to examine the female models. 

“That’s too bad.”

I don’t answer. The young man shuts the magazine and replaces it with a new one. He bends the cover and skims his thumb over the speeding pages. 

“Well, you’ll get better luck next time.” The paper softly brushes against his skin. One got caught under his nail, and he had to slightly lift up his finger to continue the flow. I distractedly smirk and move one step up the line. 

“Were you watching over my place the entire month?” 

Byakuya grins and lifts his hands up in protest. The magazine, grasped by three fingers, helplessly hangs down his palm. 

“Where did you get that ridiculous thought, cop?” 

“Naraku tends to be ridiculous.” I look again at the TV. Even if the news were urgent, they were muted and consequently irrelevant. It was my turn, and I turned my back to the TV. Neither I nor the assistant smile at each other as I slide over my non abundant groceries. I hear Byakuya smirking behind me, then deepening his voice. 

“Keen as always, Kikyo.” 

“Don’t be absurd.” But the tips of my lips slightly lift upwards. The young man glides his elbow on the counter, leaning on it with all his weight. He propped his chin with his hand and tilted his head. His eyes were shimmering. He probably sleeps during the day which is why he looked so awake, though I couldn’t know for sure. 

“Say, you’re ghost-smiling,” he points out, drumming his fingers over the magazine cover. There really is no answer I can give to a matter-of-fact observation. Byakuya smirks at my somewhat at loss silence and lifts up, walking out of the line. 

“Well, got to go.” 

I frown in confusion, eyeing the magazine lying on the counter. 

“Aren’t you going to buy anything?” 

“Nope.” Already at the doors, he dips his hand in an informal goodbye gesture. “I was scouting for Naraku.” 

The door mechanically lingers behind him, scraping against the dirty rubber rug. The assistant mutters something, snatching the unbought magazine in annoyance. I distractedly take my change, placing it inside the pockets with the gum and chocolate bar. 

I walk out, eyes thoughtlessly scouring the parking lot. Byakuya’s car is next to one of the gas station machines. Makes sense. I cross the street.

Byakuya is the newest of Naraku’s pawns and no one felt explaining to him that I’m not a cop anymore. But the unintentional misnomer of his is endearing, bringing back crumbs of pride which blaze for a few seconds before going stale again. 

***

Arms folded on the steering wheel, head resting, Byakuya watched out of the corners of his eyes how Kikyo walked out of the store. Her gaze drifted over his car, but the windows were tainted, so she didn’t see his face. The young woman nonchalantly proceeded on her way, and Byakuya sighed, ruffling his sleeves. 

“Geez, I’m hurt.” His eyes lowered on the small cellphone lying limply in his hand. The steering wheel slightly moved underneath his arms as he began punching in the number. The dial tone swiftly pushed the silence from the salon. After a short time, it cut, replaced by a male voice on the other end. 

“Byakuya?” 

“Thought you might wanna know,” Byakuya apathetically said, glancing into the rearview window. The door of the building across the street was already closing, but the scout was able to catch a glimpse of the woman’s ponytail and leather jacket. 

“Kikyo’s back.” 

***

The cold creeped from the white sheets. I shivered and, without opening my eyes, wrapped my arms around my body. The blanket is clumped clumsily at the edge of the bed. My toes inch forward, timidly grasp its ends, and pull it up closer. The blanket tugs a little after, before snapping from my toes. I wrinkle my eyebrows, shaking my surface slumber. My arms reluctantly release my shoulders and blindly reach out for the blanket. In one jerking movement, I pull the covers over my body. My skin reels from the cold, but I force myself to tolerate it. Sluggishly, I fall asleep in the freezing air. 

I wake up half an hour later. 

The blanket’s warm, and I nuzzle inside. The soft air tenderly bends around my skin; slowly, my clenched arms relax and lightly drop on the bed, the legs extend from their curled up position. 

The morning tiptoes through the gaps in the blinds, illuminating the room in a cool blue. 

There is brief relief from being home, like snatching a few gulps of air before diving underwater again. 

The phone on my night table rings. 

It was so sudden that I didn't take it immediately. However, I sit up, the blanket draping around my shoulders and pooling around my legs. The cord follows me when I pick up the phone. 

“Yes?” 

“Kikyo?” 

I feel an uncomfortable shiver. 

“Inuyasha, what happened?” 

His voice is strained and anxious. “Sorry, did I wake you up?” 

“I—” I close my eyes in irritation as he doesn’t answer my question. “That doesn’t matter. What happened?” 

“An entire unit was killed off.” 

“The entire unit?” I repeat in disbelief. The lack of heavily injured — the lack of anyone alive — was suspicious. Inuyasha didn’t seem to have noticed the skepticism in my voice. 

“Yeah, yesterday. Mowed down like flies.” 

I slowly shift my legs over the edge of the bed and carefully stand up. The cord tautly shakes from the movement. 

“Inuyasha, why are you telling me this?” 

“Huh?” 

I look out the window that’s right behind the night table. Thin streaks of light slit through the blinds. I lift up my hand to them. 

“My only affiliation with the police lies through the shards.” My fingertips graze the plastic. I lift my fingertips close to my eyes and rub the dust that collected on them. 

“Beyond that my role expires.” 

There’s a short pause. 

“Yeah. I know.” 

“And so, Inuyasha?” I tiredly press. I don’t think he understood how much unresolved tension and pain this call was giving me. 

“They say Kohaku did it.” 

Sango’s little brother. I saw him once or twice, but his gentle personality touched me. 

“He’s not wicked, Inuyasha.” 

“He’s a kid,” the voice on the other end added, or rather reminded. I rubbed my forehead, trying to focus. The proposition was preposterous at the very least, requiring delicate attention, but it was still out of my competence. 

“I’m very sorry.” 

“But Kikyo,” Inuyasha immediately countered. The line shook from his raised voice. 

“The kid’s still running somewhere! You can at least check around.” 

I’m quiet for a while, not even thinking about his words but listening to his breathing through the receiver. When my thoughts circle back to Kohaku, I find I have no good reason for turning down the request. 

“Alright,” I concede. My fingers tighten around the phone; I can feel Inuyasha’s immediate gladness as my lips stop moving. I know him well. Before he can thank me, I hastily start speaking again. 

“Send Kagome to the pre-school. She can tell me all the details there.” 

I can hear him stumbling on his joy and sadly think that he has not changed at all after the coma. My eyes involuntarily dart at the box of white capsules lying on the night table. The skin around the scars starts to itch. 

“Yeah... sure. Of course.” He manages. I give a strained smile to the blinds in front of me. The streaks of light were growing fatter. 

“It’s settled, then.” 

I hear his distant and hurried “see you” as I place the phone down. He also knows me well. 

***

I diligently hold my hand on the paper as 3-year-old Kota is tracing my fingers with a crayon, tip crumbling from the excessive pressure the boy puts on it in a chase to be perfect. Ryoma enviously spies from the other side of the table. 

“Kikyo-san, I want to trace your hand too!” He whines. I smile and shake my head. 

“You have to finish your own hand first, Ryoma, just like Kota did.” 

Ryoma pouts and glares angrily at the crumpled and scratched out paper littered all around him.

“I know, but it’s turning out uglyyy...” 

I laugh, slightly moving my knees. Kota sitting on my lap squeaks from surprise and his crayon slips. For a moment, the little boy stares at the uneven line. One sniff. Then another. I fluff his hair. 

“I’m sorry, Kota. Don’t worry, we’ll fix it right away.” 

Kota watches in awe as I take the crayon and draw one fat line over the irregularity. 

“See?” 

Kota eagerly snatches the crayon from my hand and vigorously continues drawing. Ryoma, watching us with folded arms, demonstratively turns his head away. 

“Hmphf! You always help him ‘cuz he’s the baby.” 

I eye him for a moment, then carefully set Kota on his feet. 

“One moment, Kota,” I reply as the little boy looks up at me in wonder and worry. I scoot over to the 5-year-old, all at once forgetting his bravado and watching me wide-eyed. 

“Seems that our Ryoma is still a little boy.” 

The boy  _ immediately _ jumps up, but my hands softly encircle around him, and soon the boy is squealing and bickering. 

“Lemme go! Lemme go! I’m a  _ big boy _ !” 

His socks with blue-and-yellow trains drum on the floor. My smile widens, and I hug him closer. 

“Of course you are.” 

Kota, all abandoned, gazes at us, before letting out a long, high-pitched wail. 

I wrap my arms around him as well and bring him in. The little boy stumbles and falls silent. Ryoma gave up a couple of seconds ago, and now limply lies in my arms, glaring at the opposite wall. I let them huff for a moment, then lower my voice. 

“Now boys, we’re not getting jealous.” Ryoma purses his lips. 

I slightly tug at him in gentle reproach. 

“Alright?”

Kota energetically shakes his head. 

“Awwight,” he wobbly manages. I relax my left arm, and the boy scrambles out. My eyes shift on Ryoma, still pouting and refusing to meet my gaze. 

“Ryoma?” 

“What?”

I lower my head to his ear and hug him close. 

“I’ll help you draw your hands, ” I quietly say. At first, his face scrunches, then timidly lights up in hope. I give him a comforting squeeze. 

“Don’t envy your little brother.” 

I can feel how he’s still defiant, tiny muscles tensing against my shirt. A minute later the boy relaxes. 

“Okay,” Ryoma clumsily grins.

Gladness warmly breezes inside my mind. I relax my arm. 

“Run along.” 

He scampers out, tripping over my knees and dutifully sits next to his papers. I watch him a second longer before turning to Kota who’s patiently holding out the crayon. 

When the boy’s about finished drawing my hand, a little girl happily scurries over to me. 

“Kikyo-san, Kikyo-san, I finished!” 

I carefully remove my hand from the paper, making sure it doesn’t stick to my palm, and take the girl’s drawing. 

Many red dots over a blue - with white streaks in the places the girl didn’t color in fully - background.

It reminds me of rowanberries, frosted with snow, on white branches. 

“It’s beautiful, Nina.” 

She shines from delight. Ryoma looks over my shoulder and gives a loud sniff. 

“That looks like an alien hand!” 

Nina’s smile drops into a glower. 

“No, it doesn’t! It’s my hand!” 

Ryoma innocently juts his hands to the sides and shrugs. “Oh well, guess your hand is an alien hand.”

Nina starts to turn red. “Alien yourself!” 

“Aliens don’t exist,” I shake my head. 

“But I saw them on TV,” Ryoma tilts his head in confusion. 

Kota is fully ignoring us, coloring his tiny hand and humming to himself. 

“I must’ve missed the broadcast,” I softly smile. 

The little ones will definitely bombard me with questions now. So I stand up. 

“I’ll be right back, after I place Nina’s drawing.” 

The girl happily claps her hands, while the older boy rolls his eyes. But he doesn’t mean it. 

Chatter hops around me as I walk over to the windowsill, making the room light as if the air was confetti thrown into the air and falling on your shoulders in gentle coils.

The windowsill was lined with painted pine cones. 

Blue, magenta, orange, red, yellow, green, brown - Chiko thought he was being smart. 

As I set the picture behind Nina’s pine cone, my eyes travel beyond the glass, at the little play area outside, the pebbled ground sprinkled with autumn leaves, a tiny fence separating the preschool from the sidewalk. 

Kagome didn’t come yet. 

As I turn around, the toe of my shoe dusts over something. I look down. A broken in half crayon, the torn wrapper jutting out from the end. I sigh and shake my head. Little ones. As I crouch down, Yua bounces up to me. 

“Where did you go this time, Kikyo-san?” She curiously chirps. Bo’s just as curious gaze pops over his shoulder as he hears us. 

“Yeah, Kikyo-san,” Chiko swags up, but he doesn't really pay attention: Sara is running in circles around him, trying to grab the color pencils he’s held up high over his head, and he constantly has to dodge - the girl is fast. 

“Shyashima.” 

There are several at once. “Was it niiice?” “Did you like it?” “Where is Shya-shi-shimi?” 

I smile, hiding the crayon in my palm. It smears inside my palm, colorful ash fearfully clinging to my fingers. 

“It was ordinary.” 

Yua tilts her head in confusion. “Huh?” “Then why did you go?” 

“I had work to do.” 

“That’s so boring.” Chiko jumps up, desperately trying to keep the color pencils away from Yua. 

“Yes, it wasn’t very fun,” I agree, standing up. I hurry the children to their tables and, as they settle down, go to the bathroom.

It’s for staff only, so there are no smiling butterflies or trains painted on the ceramic walls.

The light uncertainly blinks a couple of times.

I unclasp my hand and toss the smushed crayon into the bin. 

I turn the murky faucet knobs several times.

The cold water runs onto my palm. The smudges reluctantly grab onto my skin, and I press the soap bottle’s nose. A few wheezing sounds come out, before the chemical-honey scented liquid spurts out of the crinkled plastic. Without thinking, I begin swiftly scrubbing my hands. 

The beaming smiles and tinkling laughter, the blur of feet running around in circles, showing you their messy, but charming crafts, never-ending chitchat. I flinch, remember the stinging accusation. 

_ You’re parasitic, Kikyo. Don’t tell me you don’t drink their energy.  _

My neck warms up as desperation stirs up in me again. That’s not true. The children were the only ones who didn’t notice anything after the accident. In fact, they were overjoyed since I became a full-time worker here. 

_ “Ironic, Naraku.”  _

I push down the collar and press my cooled hands to my neck. The warm skin exhales, relishing the water.

His words hurt. 

Slowly, I lower my hands down and rest them on the edge of the sink. The children’s banter echoes inside the bathroom walls. 

My shoulders gradually fall down and relax, calmed by their voices. 

***

Uncontrollably laughing, Yu outstretches her arms and pats the wall. Ryoma, who was racing after her, crushing the leaves under his sneakers, groans in frustration and abruptly stops. Yua triumphantly turns around. 

“No puppy guarding,” she happily declares.

“I know.” To prove his words, the boy wheels around, places his hands on his hips, and begins deciding who he’ll chase next. 

Bo is standing next to the rocking horse, seemingly unaware. 

Ryoma darts. 

I watch the children out of the corner of my eye, making sure they don’t hurt themselves. They tended to get quite rowdy during tag. 

“Kikyo-san?” 

I shift my gaze to Yahiko. The boy delicately hands me over a small maple leaf. I smile and take it into the bouquet of red I’m holding in my hands. Folding his arms behind his back, like a little navy general, Yahiko strolls over to a pile of leaves that the yardman has assembled this morning. Kuronato-san won’t be pleased, I worriedly think and take a step towards the boy when someone calls my name. Yahiko glances at me in confusion. 

“Yahiko, I’ll be standing next to the fence, so bring me your leaves there.” 

Disappointment flashes on his face - the boy wanted to collect the leaves with me. However, he nods and strolls, though less eagerly, to the pile. 

I feel guilty. But I turn around, lips forming into a faint smile. 

Ghost-smiling. 

Delicately holding the fragile leaves so I wouldn’t drop or break any of them, I walk over to Kagome waiting by the fence. She’s wearing a white woolen hat, and I notice mittens peeking from the corner of her pockets. 

“Hello,” the young woman energetically greets me. “Jet lagged?” 

I shake my head. 

“Not really.” 

Fixing her hat, Kagome laughs. “Well, I still am.” 

I wonder how she’s jetlagged: her eyes are shining, the cheeks are healthily flushed from the cold air. 

The muscles around my shoulder blades begin tensing. Kagome peers over my shoulder.

“I can’t believe these kids,” she merrily says. “They never run out of energy.”

She’s still watching them, so I wait. 

Her light-hearted expression slowly dissolves, becoming serious even though her eyes never leave the children. 

“Did Inuyasha tell you about the killings?” She quietly asks, still not looking at me. I stare ahead as well. We never fully managed to speak face to face. Kagome believes we will someday. I’m more apprehensive. 

“At the Chiisai facility?” The edges of the leaves prick into my woolen turtleneck and I lower my eyes down. “I read a bit more about it after he called.” 

“What do you think?” 

The edges press into my fingertips.

I understand that I’m uselessly fiddling and lower my arm. 

“It’s strange.” My voice is calm. 

“I can understand why Kohaku was there. Taking interns, even if they’re under thirteen, is a common practice.” 

“You don’t like it too?”

There was a victorious cheer. Ryoma tagged someone and relinquished his position.

“No.” I frown.

We’re interrupted by Yahiko who has brought me another leaf. He glances up curiously at Kagome, and she immediately smiles, giving him a slight wave. The boy blushes and runs back to the pile. I’m silent. 

Kagome lowers her hand down; her eyes shift on me. 

The heavy, slightly ruptured sigh comes out against my will. 

“Also, I can’t imagine why Kohaku would start beating everyone up. Even the most experienced policemen don’t use batons that often. An arrest of a simple weapon dealer... ” I wrinkle my forehead, trying to remember his name. It doesn’t come up. “... shouldn’t require force.” 

Kagome suddenly hesitates. 

“About that... ” She fumbles for the right word, looking very uneasy. I glance at her in confusion.

“Did I miss something?” 

“Kugutsu wasn’t a weapon dealer.” Kagome’s intently looking the other way. I raise my eyebrows, but before I can ask anything, Chiko grabs my legs. 

“You're it, Kikyo-san!” He giggles. I shake my head. 

“I’m sorry, Chiko, but I’m busy.” 

Chiko gives a disappointed sigh, but releases my legs and runs away. I turn back around. 

“I apologize. Who was he?”

Maybe Kagome took a deep breath, maybe she didn’t. 

“A shard possessor.”

I didn’t expect that. 

Kagome notices my blank expression and quickly raises up her hands to calm me down. 

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not how it is!” 

“Really?” I softly specify. My arms feel limp, and a far-away thought absently reminds me that I’m going to drop the leaves. 

“Of course!” 

Her exclamation rings in my ears. Then, everything cools — cools from the inside. I force myself to focus on Kagome’s words. 

“Think about it, why would the government send us away only to come after him the day we arrive? They genuinely didn’t know about him being a possessor. And our leads,” Kagome forcefully continues. “Were genuine false leads, not artificial distractions tossed up by the higher-ups.” 

I’m quiet for a moment. The dates are convenient and cumbersome at the same time. 

It’s so cold from anger. 

“You’re probably right.” 

Her shoulders slightly slouch from relief. She lifts her head up. Maybe she felt a drop of rain or maybe she wants to forget everything. 

“Do you think they knew?” She wonders aloud. “That they’re going after a shard possessor?” 

“No. Otherwise they wouldn’t take Kohaku with them.”

My fingers tighten against the leaves. One stem breaks, then another. 

“The information wasn’t disclosed?” 

“Naturally. They even got rid of the equipment.” 

I feel better, though it’s a small thing. Yahiko watches me from a distance, fidgeting and trying to find the right moment to give me the mini-bouquet he collected. Several broken steps fall through my fingers, and remorse flashes through me. 

“What about Kohaku?” I inquire after a short silence. 

“According to accounts of the plan, he was supposed to stay on guard.” Kagome wrinkles her eyebrows in exasperation. “The surveillance system was destroyed so I can’t say for sure .” 

“Awfully thoughtful,” I very quietly comment. Kagome shoots me a look. 

“Kikyo. ” 

I shake my head, insisting. 

“No matter how trained he is, Kohaku wouldn’t be able to create such a deliberate plan.”

“Exactly!” Kagome parries. “That means someone else is standing behind him. Someone  _ other  _ than the government.” 

“Same thing.” 

Kagome groans. “This is not the time to be smart.” 

I let the comment slide. 

The children run around behind us, their excited voices awkwardly layering on the tension. 

“What do you want from me?” I finally inquire. “I don’t imagine I’m the first person Sango wants to turn to.” 

Kagome tucks her hands into the pockets of her jacket. 

“We filed an order to search Naraku's place.” 

“Without results,” I assume out loud. 

“Without results,” she admits. “And without direct evidence we won't get one.” 

His entire past and character are enough evidence. But I keep that to myself. 

“So you’re asking me to find some?” 

Kagome calmly shakes her head. 

“We’re not asking you anything. I just know you’ll be looking for the shard anyway and so may help Kohaku.” Her face softens. I flinch and look away. Yahiko, having finally lost his patience, runs up to me. 

It’s funny how human lives and shards slip so easily through our fingers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the first chapter! It's a bit long, but that's just because it's the first one, plus there's a slight info dump at the end.   
> By the way, I wrote in the prologue that Kohaku's last name is Isobe, well that's because he doesn't have one canonically so I had to make it up. Furthermore, all of the streets and cities in here are mostly made up to give the story more transparency. 
> 
> I deeply apologize for any cultural inaccuracies I may have. I tried to stay as accurate as possible, but some things I'll inevitably mess up. If you find something, let me know! Thank you! 
> 
> So, what do y'all think? :)


	3. Artificial Moon Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naraku

The man in a yellow kimono accidentally slurps the liquor up his nose, causing him to loudly snort in surprise, alcohol dripping down his chin. Everyone barks in laughter. 

Hakudoshi blankly stares at them. Lip twitching, he slowly pulls the beanie down, earphones slightly shifting, and flips some hair strands forward, hiding the white string. 

“Naraku?” He quietly speaks. 

“Yes?” The bar is loud, and the child has to push his ears to hear anything. 

“I found them.” Hakudoshi eyed the opposite table. The man sitting next to the liquor sniffer apathetically slaps him in between the shoulderblades. That one spits out — saliva, alcohol, everything. Hakudoshi grimaces in disgust, nearly missing the question. 

“Where, Hakudoshi?” 

“Takikawa. In a bar.” 

The voice on the other side is amused. “They let you in?” 

His reflection stared back at him from the nonalcoholic cocktail. Mango with strawberry. 

Damn that bastard. 

“I bribed the owner.”

The voice smirked. 

“I see. Did you reserve a five-star table as well?” 

“Good enough,” Hakudoshi coolly replied. He shot another look at the two men. 

“Should I start it now?” 

“You’re too impatient.” 

Hakudoshi bit back a remark and waited. He pressed his hand harder, blocking out the clatter and rumble. 

“I’ll tell you when to start. Be on guard.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He yanks out the earphones, tucking them into the pockets in frustration. 

***

I lock the door, but still try the handle. It doesn’t budge. 

Turning away, I hide the keys and start down the hallway. It’s brightly lit, but tired. The offices are empty, and the building seems like a hollow conch shell, with long carpets and the monotonous hum of the vacuum cleaner. 

As I turn the corner, the cleaning lady is roughly sliding the machine across the floor. The hum rapidly rises in volume. When the woman notices me, she turns off the vacuum cleaner and inches to the side. She slightly bows when I pass her. As the hum floats again behind my back, I absently lower my eyes down on the carpet. The perfect streaks, razored by the vacuum cleaner, are smudged by my footsteps. 

In the lobby, the porter hands me over my coat. I toss it over my shoulders, not bothering to button it up, and push the door forward. For a moment, my eyes trace the very faint smears of water and soap on the glass, and the smell of chemicals briefly lingers in the air. But as soon as the door opens, everything is erased. 

The night was clamorous. The public square hurried with people, laughing and talking under the strings of light. Some warmed their fingers and noses with the steam rising from the coffee cups, others smoked. 

There was a crowd at the bus stop. I paused, keeping a slight distance between the people, and put on the coat. The fresh warmth instantly wrapped inside. Looking down the street, I noticed the large window with a barely visible driver inside turning around the corner and took out the ticket from my breast pocket. 

The bus tiredly pulled over. The crowds mixed together, people going in and people going out. I easily slipped in between the bunch and stepped in, on the way flashing the conductor the fare.

The rumbling of the plaza mutes out with the tinted windows. The people inside are worn out, grey faces not looking at each other and lame fingers clutching their belongings. 

There is an empty seat next to a young woman. Slightly hunching from the low ceiling, I make my way over to her and wordlessly sit down. Her eyes momentarily dart over me, before fixing permanently on the window. I glance out the window as well; the people are smiling, splashing their energy into the night. Their voices are distantly heard through the open doors. 

The bus heavily exhales, and the doors pull in, shutting off the public square. 

It’s very quiet, even with the rumble of the vehicle’s engine. Occasionally a cell phone rings, followed by the shuffle of the purse or clothes, then a hushed muttering. Whenever the doors open, there’s brief commotion, the autumn air with its loud voices falling into the salon. It’s slightly frustrating. 

At one of the stops, the woman quietly excuses herself. I stand up and after she exits, sit right next to the window. It’s murky and smudged. 

The salon gradually empties out as the bus drives deeper into the neighborhood. A couple of people in rags and holed plastic bags scramble inside. A dyed-green in a cheap blue suit rides about two stops. There’s a sound of soft snoring on the seat behind me. 

The driver apathetically looks at me as I approach the front. 

With a low whistle, the doors close behind me, and the bus rolls away. The park entrance is abandoned. Tucking my hands inside my pockets, I start walking. 

The leaves and twigs quietly shuffle underneath my feet, unevenly illuminated by the flickering lampposts. Litter is scattered underneath the picnic tables. A woman in a dirty trench coat is crouching next to them, picking out some scraps. The hoots and yells of teenagers fluctuate, loud whenever someone impressively flips on the skateboard. 

The projectors of the stadium are beaming right into the sky. As I pass the bleachers, I curiously glance at the field. Local elementary kids, late soccer practice. Parents are scattered on the top bleachers, but dispersed further down. The bottom bleachers were practically empty, except for a sleeping bum, a newspaper positioned on his head, and a woman in a grey coat. 

I examine her for a moment, then slowly walk down. 

She’s right in front of the closed off stadium, and it’s louder and darker here. Her eyes follow me as I pass in front of her. 

“You’ve decided to replace Byakuya?” 

“Just for this occasion.” I sit on her opposite side. Kikyo silently watches me, before averting her gaze to the stadium. I wonder what she is trying to see: most of the view is blocked by the stadium’s wooden skirting board. 

“You chose a rather poor place to watch the game.” 

A soccer ball smashes into the chain net, giving a loud rattle. The parents behind collectively flinch. The corners of her lips briefly tug upwards. 

“I like it here.” 

“I don’t doubt that you do.” I glance over my shoulder at the skirting board as well. It’s a miserable sight. Kikyo eyes me, before softly smirking. 

“If you want, we can move higher,” she amiably proposes. I shake my head and look at her. There are faint veins in her eyes, lacking sleep from the flight, and her lips are cracked. She knows I pass here to get home. 

Kikyo’s expression becomes serious.

“Was it Juromaru? Or did you send both brothers to avoid blunders?” 

She caught onto that much. I held back from sighing; she was so tiresome sometimes. 

“By blunders do you mean collateral damage? 

“Yes.” Her forehead creased. “It’s been quite awhile since you did mass-scale executions.”

Interesting. 

“So when I execute an entire block of the undercover yakuza district, you’re not concerned?” 

Kikyo frowns.

“No.” 

She’ll have to defend herself. 

“They’re also people, you know.”

“Your inner brawls are one thing,” Kikyo shakes her head. “The police are another.”

“You’re hardly affiliated with the cops. It’s about time you stop coming on their behalf.” 

“I’m not going on their behalf.” She raises her voice: the game shifted closer to the bleachers. “I have my own goals, and they happen to coincide with theirs. However, if I happen to get the shard before them, I won’t turn it over.” 

I know all of this beforehand, but it’s fun to gently tease her, especially since she takes most of the jabs seriously

“Selfishness is a bad trait, Kikyo,” I grin. She gives me an irritated and pointed look, but softens and gives a light-hearted smirk. 

“So you’d rather I give them to the cops?”

“I’d rather you give them to me.” I stand up and stretch out a hand. “But that’s not happening any time soon.” 

“Or later.” Kikyo takes my hand, and I help her stand up. 

“Or later,” I agree and let her go first up the stairs. Some of the parents follow us with their eyes, but most are too focused on their children running around the field. 

As I take the last step, my cell phone rings. Kikyo tenses. 

I dismiss the amusing thought of offering her to listen in to the conversation because... well, one never knows. 

“Excuse me.” 

She nods, and I walk over to the side, bringing the phone to my ear. 

“What is it, Kagura?” 

“Kohaku is sleepwalking.” Kagura sounds more baffled than worried. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. The shard’s initial effects must be more pronounced in children. 

“As long as he is alright, let him.” 

“Alright.” She doesn’t seem very convinced, but hangs up first. I slip the phone back inside my pocket and turn around. Kikyo is thoughtfully watching the game. Her contour is carved out by the projector lights. 

“Finished?” 

“Yes. Business.” I offer her my elbow and she wraps her arm around it. 

Her heels quietly tap along the pavement. It’s been awhile, with her perfume wavering softly next to me. I glance at her. She’s thoughtful, silently wondering how to approach the subject. I don’t hurry her. 

We’re walking automatically, tracing out the route we usually do. The feeling is almost nostalgic. 

“Where is Kohaku?” Kikyo finally asked. I raise my eyebrows. 

“Who?” 

“The child in the police unit.” 

I lightly smile. “For that you’ll have to ask Juromaru.” 

“He wasn’t among the corpses.” 

“Then how do you expect me to know? Ask the bums, they’re sure to have seen a kid running around.” 

Kikyo eyes me, but her suspicious expression is also tired. I understand that she doesn’t strongly believe that I have Kohaku because I have no need for him. At least, she didn’t find it yet. 

I feel oddly relieved and surprised. Glancing at her, I jokingly grin and add:

“It will only cost a dollar on your part.” 

“I get your point,” Kikyo grimaces in disapproval, not really in the mood for my jokes. I smirk, bringing my elbow closer in. Her gloved fingers brush the side of my coat. 

A squat border appears on the sidewalk, and Kikyo nonchalantly steps up on it. I relax my elbow, but firmly hold her hand. She sways several times when her heel misses the edge, but manages not to fall over. 

“Byakuya told me you had a miserable trip.” 

Kikyo doesn’t look at me, focused on her shoes. “Yes. So?” 

“Care to elaborate?” 

“I told Byakuya everything you needed to know.” 

She swiftly steps off the border, right in front of me. Suddenly, she smiles.

“I doubt you’re interested in how I spent time with my ex-lover.” 

I didn’t think she would bring up Inuyasha; she almost never did. I felt a burning sensation, then a sharp hissing, as if a bucket of water was dunked over a flame. I managed to keep my expression from changing, but I bet Kikyo knew.... whatever there was to know. 

“Really?” The word carries no meaning - it’s just an echo, a pause during which I could scan her eyes. 

It was easy to unpeel the first dark brown layer of mischief. 

Everything beyond that was wounded and aching. 

The burning rolls back as quickly as it came. I fight the urge to close my eyes in irritation. She was trying to stir up jealousy. 

I think I was more angry about myself falling for that than her trying to unstable me. 

To remind her of who we are, I lean in right to her neck. The soft wool of her turtleneck faintly touches my lips, and I bring them higher. The skin is warm from the turtleneck and the coat. 

“Don’t bluff, Kikyo.”  My breath singes my face as I warn her. From the corners of my eyes, I see the tips of her lips slowly stretching into a smile. 

“Tell me,” she softly mocks. “Which of us misses the other one more?” 

Hurt anger. I silently touch her skin with my lips, slightly moving down the turtleneck. 

I can imagine how she pressed her fingertips to this spot in the morning, scented liquid dripping down in translucent rivulets. 

Kikyo closes her eyes. Still smiling. 

“Are you going to answer, Naraku?” 

When I pull back, I’m also smiling. 

“I don’t answer rhetorical questions.” 

She stares into my eyes. “It wasn’t a rhetorical question.” 

My phone rings. 

Something flickers in her expression as I turn around and walk to the side. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, as if I was pulled from underwater, I bring the phone up to my ear. Kagura doesn’t bother with a greeting. 

“For your information,” she bitingly starts. “Kohaku walked into a bar.” 

Under your unwavering surveillance. I massage the bridge of my nose, wondering if Kagura did it on purpose, just to get on my nerves. 

“And what? You want me to give you a raise?” 

She stumbles on her words in indignation, giving me a chance to cut in.

“Is the boy alright?” 

“I mean….” Kagura hesitates. “Yeah.” 

“Kagura?” 

“Some jerks are stacking cigarette boxes on his head. He’s still sleeping.” 

Damn it. I half-close my eyes, rapidly thinking. 

“Act accordingly. If he gets in trouble, come to his help so that he’ll have a good impression.” 

“I thought you said he’s not staying with us for long.” 

“Not now.” I glance over my shoulder. Even though Kikyo is out of earshot, she’s watching me, suspicion slowly edging into her features. 

Kagura suddenly curses. 

The dial tone apologetically beeps into my ear. 

Frowning, I hide the phone in my pocket. I hear the businesslike clack of heels behind me. 

The rest of our walk is silent. Even though she doesn’t speak, Kikyo seems somewhat more animated; that other time zone must be telling her it’s early daytime. 

I absently remember what I compared her with when I first met her: ink. Viscous and rich in the beginning, but after a while, her anger and hatred thin into barely nothing. She’s mostly in the second state, with many emotions simply inhibited. 

But there are other moments as well. 

The electric lamp haphazardly blinks at the skewed, wired fence that separates the park from the yard in front of a few featureless five-story buildings. The sidewalk slowly disintegrates under our feet as we walk up. The yard is quiet; all the local children are in bed by now. I lift up the latch of the rusty gate and look at Kikyo. 

“You’re welcome to stay over.” She was jetlagged anyway, it didn’t matter where she slept and with whom. 

Kikyo shakes her head, not even smiling. 

“I’m good.” 

I shrug and move the gate open.

“Be it your way.” On the other side, I lower the latch back down. Kikyo follows my movements with her eyes; she seems to be thinking about something else, probably the phone call. I hold back from sighing.

“Good night. Or are you going to watch me all the way till I walk in?” 

Kikyo shakes her head again. “No. Good night.” 

She turns around first, as if to prove the inaccuracy of my words. When her grey coat seems to be far enough, I turn around and go towards the parked cars. I don’t want her to see I’m not going home. 

***

The first thirty floors are quiet, it’s too late in the night. 

The number blinks thirty-seven. 

I walk out of the elevator. Even though all the lights are turned off, the hallway is illuminated by the blue light coming from the windows. 

Kagura is leaning on the door. At the sound of my footsteps, she lifts her head and gives me an unpleasant look. 

“Sorry for the trouble, boss,” she indifferently states. 

“I’m not interested in the details.” 

Kagura smirks and moves to the side, to the wall, so that I can enter. 

“Kanna’s with him right now,” she adds as I take the handle. I don’t answer and push the door forward. 

The room is brightly lit. Kanna is standing next to the windows, completely motionless. 

Kohaku is sitting on the edge of the bed, legs dangling on the floor. 

“Kanna, you may leave,” I softly say. The girl turns around. She’s holding a thin paper folder to her chest, and I instantly understand what it is. 

Kanna quietly shuffles forward. Kohaku follows her with his eyes as she stops and hands me over the folder. 

The door closes with a light swoosh. 

I pull back the folder’s cover and quickly scan the neon white X-rays. 

My thoughts skip a beat, I close the folder and glance up at the boy. 

“How are you feeling?” 

The boy shakes his head. I walk over to him and crouch so that our eyes are on the same level. Up close, Kohaku is very pale, freckles scattered like black dots, and the T-shirt’s folds next to the armpits are damp from sweat. 

“Your organism must have overreacted after yesterday’s events, plus that doctor’s visit….” 

The boy is quiet, hungrily taking in the words. The grayish-green circles under his eyes make them bulge out. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

His shoulders awkwardly loosen, and Kohaku timidly smiles. He’s relieved. I smirk and ruffle his hair. My fingers firmly hold the folder, preventing the X-rays from slipping out.

“I’ve found your relatives,” I lightly say as I mess his hair. Kohaku instantly tenses up and I raise my eyebrows. My hand halts. 

“Something wrong?” 

“I... ” His voice is very, very quiet. Kohaku looks down and wrinkles his face. “I don’t remember them.” 

“Well, I’m sure they’ll recognize you. They’ll definitely be more help than I am.” 

The boy doesn’t answer, staring down at the floor. 

He wants to argue but doesn’t want to sound impolite or meddlesome. I mentally pull up the scoreboard in mind. It’s not a full point yet, but a quarter was definitely there. Kikyo is slightly behind, but she is good at catching me unaware. 

My thoughts come back to Kohaku, and I give an encouraging smile. 

“Don’t wind yourself and go to sleep. Think you can do that?” 

I sounded like Kikyo. I nearly missed Kohaku’s uncertain nod. 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” 

As I stand up, he climbs into the bed and under the sheets. I feel his wide eyes on my back as I walk over to the door. I look over my shoulder. 

“Good night, Kohaku.”

“Good night, sir.” 

I switch off the lights and close the door. 

Both Kanna and Kagura are outside. Kagura glimpses at me. 

“Well?” 

“Tell Byakuya to be on his watch,” I quietly order. 

Her lip curls. “Will do.” 

Her eyes travel at the folder in my hand. 

“Are you going to tell them about it?” 

“I’ll let them go through the trouble.” 

Kagura smirks and shakes her head. Uncrossing her right arm, she stretches it out and I hand her over the folder. She lifts up two fingers.

“Night, Kanna.” 

Kanna turns her head and watches her walk down the corridor. She silently takes my hand. I watch Kagura as well, then look down at the girl. 

“Let’s go, I’ll take you to bed.” 

Kanna nods, and her fingers slightly squeeze my hand as the single sign of emotion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naraku's point of view! He's much easier to write because he's slightly more straightforward than Kikyo because she's.... she's just a big complex mess. Though I try to keep both of them human yet in-character as much as possible.   
> So, thoughts? :)   
> Reviews, kudos, bookmarks are all welcome! Thanks for reading!


	4. Little Kohaku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kohaku

The lamps seem to exhale, finally devoid of electricity. 

I stare at them, then quietly sit up and lower my feet on the floor. The sheets ruffle — they’re loud, and I wince. My toes slightly flinch and curl up against the cool linoleum. I shakingly stand up and wobble over towards the windows. My fingers glaze the glass. 

It’s fascinating. 

The neon blue radiating from the office buildings, the occasional red and green of the traffic lights, and cars like yellow ladybugs scurrying over the roads. It seems like there’s no glass at all, and I can just take a step and... fall? 

I jolt and shrink back, nearly hitting the stool. 

It’s better to stay in bed. 

I sit down but don’t lie down. The linoleum floor is bleak and black. I try to remember, one more time. 

The unit, the building, the gates. 

Gates, building, unit. I stare in panic at the floor. Naraku-san said that it’s unclear who killed the unit. But why am I the only one who survived? 

I grasp my head, pressing the temples to try and activate my brain. Why, why, why? 

It doesn’t make sense, I’m the least experienced. I was at the entrance as well, I should’ve been killed from the start. I furiously rub my temples. Even the memories — unit, building, gates — are intermittent. 

I fall down on the bed like a starfish. I don’t even remember my relatives.

***

It’s my first time riding in the front seat, and the slight excitement helps to even out the dread. I silently look out the front window. Every car seems so much bigger and closer. I lower my gaze on my lap. 

The radio muffles through the speakers. Naraku-san is calmly driving, turning the wheel with one hand. I eye him. He seems to be in a good mood. I drop my gaze again. My palms are damp from sweat, my stomach feels cold and slowly twists the breakfast. The slick, freshly washed baton awkwardly reclines on my left leg, and I don’t have the courage to move it. 

Naraku-san slants his eyes. “Are you nervous?” 

“A little.” I try to give a relaxed grin. My lips, way too numb, hobble into an uncertain smile. “I’m just…. I don’t know how to react.” 

Naraku-san smoothly changes lanes. 

“Perhaps you’ll remember them when you see them.” 

That was what I was hoping as well. It’s going to be like magic - I see them and everything will fall into place. Them... I feel my cheeks heating up. I don’t even know who “them” are. I glimpse at Naraku-san, wondering what he’ll think if I ask him who my relatives are. 

It’s too embarrassing. Better be quiet. 

We stop at a traffic light. I shift in my seat, agonizing over the question. My insides squeeze into a knot. 

I slightly open my mouth to speak. There’s a lump in my throat. 

The light turns green. 

I fall silent, leaning back against the seat and desperately trying to relax. It’s okay, I’ll ask him as soon as we stop. 

The next two traffic lights are green. 

I feel my collar crumpling from sweat and attempt to look calm. I should’ve asked him when we were waiting. Why am I such a coward? 

The car swiftly stops at the intersection. My heart freezes in fear, but I look at Naraku-san.

“Sir?” 

“What is it?” He slightly adjusts the mirror. I cringe.

“Do you... do you know how... my relatives look like?” 

I notice his brief, surprised expression and am ready to die inside. The expression immediately becomes normal. 

“I believe you have an older sister, Sango,” Naraku-san calmly replies. He doesn’t seem bothered by my ignorance at all. 

“She’s a police officer.” 

Police officer? That would make sense, I absently think, looking down at my baton. How come I didn’t think of that? 

“And my parents?” 

“Both of them passed away.” 

His voice is soft, but I’m not shocked. I’m not even sad. Not a single image of my  _ parents  _ comes up in my mind. I feel cold inside from the horror at the lack of emotion. 

“So... Sango? How old is she?” I ask in a blank voice. 

“Twenty-four. You look like her.” 

I gaze out the window. Looks like me... 

We turn the corner, and I see a large, concrete sign with the metal kanji spelling out into “Police Department.” Behind is a large building with a wide parking lot. I feel nauseous. 

Naraku-san parks at the closest slot next to the building. I wait until he turns off the car, then with a shaking hand open the door. I step out and, mechanically and painfully, close it. The hair on my neck shivers from the cold air, and I instantly want to be back in the car. Naraku-san’s hand encouragingly lands on my shoulder. 

“Let’s go?” He amiably asks. I nod, too terrified to answer, and grip to my baton. 

We pass the parking lot and the pavement way too quickly, and soon we’re behind the glass doors. My shoulders instinctively pull in, and I inch closer to Naraku-san’s side. The ceiling is enormous. Everything is so clean and strict that I feel that my quiet footsteps are way too obtrusive. I discreetly glance up at Naraku-san. He’s completely composed and seems confident. I wonder if he’s been here before but don’t dare ask. 

The receptionist desk is empty, and Naraku-san walks right past it. I see people in offices behind the wall-length windows, and my head goes dizzy. Naraku-san pauses at one of the doors and softly knocks with his knuckles. Then, he turns the round door knob and looks in. 

“Excuse me?” He politely asks, simultaneously motioning to me so that I come forward. I squeeze the baton and frightenedly go inside. 

A young man with white, messy hair glances over his shoulder in surprise. He’s sitting on a desk layered with papers and there’s a coffee cup in his hands. Next to the window is another man with an earring. It seemed as if he was looking outside, pulling back the blinds, but now he stared directly at me. 

And there were way too many women. 

A young woman was sitting behind the desk where the white-haired man was. Another woman with a tall ponytail was standing in the middle of the room and holding papers. She looked to be the same age as the one behind the desk. 

There was a third woman as well. She was the oldest among all of them, just slightly younger than Naraku-san. Her eyes were narrowed. 

And none of them looked like me. 

“Kohaku!” The woman who was standing in the center hurriedly placed the papers on the closest desk and ran up to me. I felt her arms wrapping around my neck. 

“Kohaku!” She must be... Sango. 

“Sango.” I croak. I slightly hesitate, then slowly hug her as well. I feel her stiffen and my arms immediately grow weak. Did I say something wrong? My eyes dart on the people behind us. The earring man raises his eyebrows. The women are also somewhat perplexed. My throat goes dry. 

But the woman — Sango — draws back and warmly smiles. There’s nothing in her eyes except relief and happiness. 

“Kohaku.” She gently places her hand on my cheek, and I suppress the instinctive desire to pull away. “I’m so glad you’re unharmed.” 

A wave of shame washes over me, and I guiltily smile. 

“I’m... I’m...” I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry I made you worry.” 

Sango tilts her head, confused, but then the third woman speaks up.

“Bold of you to come here.” 

I frown at her question, but then notice that the woman is looking past me. I glance backwards. 

Naraku-san is looking straight ahead as well, lips formed in a polite smile. However, the expression in his eyes is odd. Almost sarcastic, but he didn’t say anything. I jerk my head between Naraku-san and the officers, and then I realize: they seem to hate each other. 

“Wait.” Their eyes move back on me and I instantly stutter. Taking a calming gulp, I look at the woman next to the wall. 

“Naraku-san found and took care of me.” 

Her voice is detached. “Where exactly did he find you?”

I falter, not knowing what to answer. I didn’t remember. 

“Byakuya found him lying in an alley.” My shoulders nearly sag in relief when I hear Naraku-san speak, even though he mentioned an unfamiliar name. 

“And since when Byakuya pickes up kids?” Sango intervenes, harshly. Naraku-san looks down at her and smirks. 

“The kid was wearing a police uniform and had blood all over. Naturally, Byakuya contacted me. It’s always useful to be on the cops’ good side.” 

“Bullshit,” the white-haired man snorts. The young woman sitting behind the desk lightly punches his leg for the profanity. 

I feel stranded.

Sango’s fingers are digging into my forearms. She transfers her gaze at me, and I look away, unable to hold the eye contact. 

Naraku-san’s hand takes my shoulder. 

“I thought you’d be more happy to see him.” His voice is slightly chiding. He squeezes my shoulder. “I can always take him back. Kanna will be overjoyed.” 

Please, I tiredly think. I don’t know them. 

“No,” Sango lashes. She shoots a dirty look at Naraku-san’s hand. He notices it and, with a short smirk, takes it away. I stare past Sango’s shoulder, somewhere on the table’s leg. I don’t know how to feel and it’s almost in a daze that I hear her next words. 

“Kohaku’s home.” 

It didn’t feel like home. Neither did Naraku-san’s place, but it was more familiar. Behind me, Naraku-san straightened out and took the door handle. 

“In that case, I’ll be on my way. Kohaku, good luck.” 

I whirl around, ignoring Sango’s startled face. 

“Thank you, sir!” 

Already closing the door, Naraku pauses, then widely grins and nods. The door shuts with a quiet clink. 

Sango pulls me into another, stronger and more genuine hug. 

“Oh Kohaku,” she almost inaudible whispers. “Thank god you’re alive.” 

Chin propped up on her shoulder, I’m quiet. She’s a good woman, and I want to show her the same relief and happiness that I see in her eyes. But I can only hug her back, arms self-consciously hovering a couple of millimeters above her shirt. 

For a while, no one speaks in the office. 

The man with the earring clears his throat. 

“Sango... I think Kohaku should see the Superintendent.” 

“I agree,” the woman at the desk sighs. Her voice is nice. 

“I would check his clothes for bugs,” the other woman emotionlessly states. Sango looks over her shoulder and scowls.

“You’re taking it too far, Kikyo.” 

I meanwhile ponder what bugs I can have when all this time I was in buildings. 

“Do you believe Naraku would give us Kohaku without a single listening device?” 

Oh, bugs like apparatus... my eyes widen. Naraku-san would never do that, though. Why is everyone so tense? The man with the white hair heavily sighs and scratches his head. 

“Sorry, Sango, but I agree with Kikyo on this one. It’s Naraku we’re talking about.” 

“Same here,” the woman at the desk quietly adds. Sango’s face strains, but she stands up and takes me by the shoulder. 

“Let’s go, Kohaku,” she quietly says. I silently follow, not bothering to ask where. However, I leave my baton behind, leaning it on the wall. 

It was the bathroom. Sango stops near the entrance and turns to me. 

“I hate to ask you this.” Alone, her voice is cracked and weary, and I despise myself for not being able to remember her. 

“Can you check your clothes?” 

“Of course,” I feel so sick for her that I don’t even think when I answer. She sadly smiles. I smile as well, but it wobbles on my lips. Hiding my face from her, I quickly walk into the bathroom. 

No one’s there. I push open the first stall and shut it behind me. 

For a minute, I just stand. 

I awkwardly pull off my sweater and mechanically crumple it between my fingers. Then I shake it a little bit. 

I don’t take off my pants and simply feel them through. 

I pull back my sweater and shiver; the sweat froze on it. I stand a couple of minutes more, relishing that I’m alone. 

It’s like in dreams, when everyone knows who you are and you don’t. And everyone wants something from you, even if you don’t have it. 

I give another weak search through my mind. It’s blank like usual. 

Sango is holding her hands together and chewing her lip when I walk out. As soon as she sees me, she gives a bright smile. 

“Done? There were no bugs, right?” 

“I didn’t find any.” 

Sango shakes her head, never dropping the light-hearted smile. “I knew it. Don’t mind Kikyo, she can be paranoid sometimes.” 

“It’s okay.” That was the only response I could think of. Sango’s smile grows wider and she jerks her shoulder in some direction. 

“Alright then. Let’s go.” 

I follow her on cotton knees. As we walk, I try to look collected and unnoticeably wipe my palms on my sweater. I wince as they become wet the instant later. 

The ride in the elevator is unbearable. Even through her relief, I can tell that Sango’s extremely worried. Not knowing what to say, I keep my eyes on the floor, burning every single time she gives me a sideways glance. An anxious glance which I don’t deserve. 

The elevator halts. Sango lets me go first, but as soon as I’m out, I embarrassedly shuffle in place. Sango wordlessly walks in front and leads me down the hallway. I feel terrible. 

The nicer woman from the office is standing next to tall doors. When we approach her, she turns to us. 

“I thought I should be present,” she explains. Sango nods. 

“Good idea.” 

I’m quiet. The nicer woman looks at me and smiles. 

“Don’t worry, Superintendent is very fair.” 

I smile in fear. The woman looks at Sango and becomes serious. 

“She’s waiting.” 

Sango’s eyebrows slightly knit together, but she knocks on the door and glimpses inside. 

“Excuse me, Superintendent?” 

“Come in.” 

Sango pushes the door wider, letting me through. 

The room is large and, overall, has a pleasant impression to it. There are a couple of tall plants standing next to the walls. In front is a massive desk, but there are hardly any papers on it, only a small fan. 

The woman sitting behind it clasps her hands together. 

“Why, it’s little Kohaku.” 

Similar to Kikyo, the women wore a suit. There was an intricate pin on the right lapel. A white fur coat hung over the armchair. 

Most of all, I couldn’t tell if the amiability on her face was sincere. My eyes darted on the label at the edge of the desk. 

_ Superintendent Taisho.  _

Her honey eyes drifted behind me. 

“And both inspector girls are here as well. How lovely. You may remain standing.” 

Her eyes return back to me, and she gestures with her hand towards the chair in front of the desk. 

“If you please, Kohaku.” 

I swallow. “Thank you, m’am.” 

The chair squeaks as I scramble in. The superintendent meanwhile takes out a thin folder from a drawer. Propping her cheek on her fist, she looks over the papers inside without much interest. 

“Report please, Chief Inspector.” 

The woman behind clears her throat. 

“Just now Naraku brought in Kohaku.” 

The superintendent lifts her eyes up, looking somewhat amused. 

“That poor excuse of a criminal?” 

I start. Criminal? 

“Yes,” the woman confirms. A light crease forms on the superintendent’s forehead. 

“Huh.” She absently traces her finger over the folder’s edge. “How did he explain it?” 

“He said Byakuya—”

“I don’t remember their names.” 

“His scout agent.” 

“Ah.” 

“Byakuya found him on one of the alleys.” 

“And Naraku wanted to get on good terms,” the superintendent mutters to herself. She doesn’t seem very worried. Sango clears her throat. 

“Or make it seem as if we’re on good terms,” she specifies. 

“Yes, yes,” the superintendent airily says. She curiously glances at me.

“He let you stay in his office?” 

“Yes, m’am,” I carefully answer. The superintendent folds her hands in front of her and lowers her chin on them. 

“And so?” 

“He had a doctor inspect me.” 

Her expression doesn’t change, but something else appeared in the undertone of her voice. A menace. 

“That’s awfully nice of him. And what did the doctor say?” 

I grip the edges of the chair and hang my head down. This was the moment I’ve been fearing the most. 

“He said I have a bad concussion,” I whisper. 

“A concussion?” It’s Sango’s voice. I grip the edges even tighter, feeling the leather scratch my skin. 

“Yes.” I hang my head lower. “That’s why I don’t remember anything.” 

“Don’t interrupt, Inspector,” the superintendent lightly reminds. “Boy, what do you mean?”

“I only remember our police unit, the building we arrived at, and the order that I had to guard the entrance. Nothing else.” My face wrinkles. 

“Not even you, Sango-san.” 

The propellers of the fan buzz, rhythmically churning the air. 

“So...” The woman starts in disbelief. “You didn’t recognize any of us?” 

I glance over my shoulder. 

“No, m’am. I don’t know your name.” 

Sango’s face is unreadable. I can’t bear looking at it and quickly turn around. The superintendent is wordlessly examining me. 

“The only survivor can’t remember his own sister.” She smirks. “The heads will have me for this.” She gives an exaggerated sigh. 

“You know them, the higher-ups?” 

“No, m’am.” 

The superintendent smiles. “They’re really bothersome. Because the killings were done by a baton, each injury easy enough to be carried out by a twelve-year-old child, they’re chanting that you’re the culprit.” 

My heart gives a loud thump before falling silent. I can feel how Sango tenses behind me. 

“Naturally, that’s not possible because you’re too unskilled.” Taisho twirls a pen in her fingers, not looking at me. “But that does put a couple of restrictions on my division. It’s a shame, truly.” 

The pen falls down on the desk. The superintendent looks up, face dead calm and cold. 

“You’re to remain in the police wards until we find the shard or at least until the higher-ups give up on you, understood?” 

“But Superintendent....” 

She raises her hand, cutting Sango off. Her eyes drill into mine. 

“Your answer, Kohaku.”

“Understood, m’am.” My voice is firm. Her lips stretch into a sweet smile. 

“You’re a wonderful boy. The wards are a great place for introspection. I’m sure you’ll recover from the concussion.” 

She lowers her cheek back on her fist. “Dismissed.” 

I awkwardly slide off the chair, in the process hitting my hip on the edge of the desk, and, without lifting my eyes from the floor, walk over to Sango. She is silent when she takes me by the shoulder. 

“Kagome, I’ll lead him on my own.” I hear once we’re outside the doors. So it’s Kagome... and there’s a Kikyo, and a Superintendent Taisho... all I need to do is find out the names of the men... then it’ll be at least something. 

We don’t talk the entire way. I know that Sango’s depressed, and even though I didn’t remember her, I feel terrible. Because inside, I was relieved. In the wards, I would be alone, without having to act as if I know the places and names. Maybe I’ll remember what happened at that building. 

There’s a receptionist desk in front of the ward section. Sango quietly talks with him. Her hand leaves my shoulder but returns after a brief moment.

The receptionist walks with us.

We don’t go very far. 

I lift my head up and gaze at the number in front of the door. Ward 24. 

The receptionist quickly unlocks it. I turn around and look at Sango. Carefully.

We do look alike, just a little bit. 

“Sango-san...” I know I’m hurting her, but I can’t call her differently. “I’ll remember you. Promise.” 

Her face crunches up. I hurriedly hug her, not wanting to see the pain in her eyes. This time, I suppress my inner uncertainty and hug her tightly. I feel her ruffle my hair. It’s almost familiar. 

I let go and walk into the ward.  __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of notes for this chapter, folks:   
> Despite using the honorific san, I'll still use the English equivalents of Superintendent and Inspector. It's just easier to manage.   
> Also, yes, the cops' big boss is Sesshomaru's mom (I don't know if Sesshomaru himself will feature... I guess I have to keep writing to find out :)) because she fits the personality I had in mind. If any of you folks know Black Lagoon and Balalaika.... yeah, the chill but scary boss :)   
> Feedback is appreciated, and thanks for reading!


	5. 4,000-Word Riddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kikyo

I follow Kohaku and his sister with my eyes. 

Inside everything is cracking from irritation. I barely pay attention to how Miroku loudly sighs and drops into the chair, twirling it around. 

“My, that was quite something.” He rubs the back of his head. “Did you see Kohaku’s expression? He looked like he had no idea what was going on.” 

I silently begin placing the papers Sango had brought into my bag. 

Kagome nods in worry. 

“Mmm, that’s right. And he called her Sango. He never calls her that, only sister.” 

“You guys are taking this way too seriously.” Inuyasha stares into his cup. The coffee has gone cold. 

“The kid’s been through a lot. No joke he’s acting weird.” 

Kagome crosses her arms and slants her eyes. They spark with light mischief. 

“So that’s how you explain you jerking around all the time.” 

Inuyasha looks offended. “What  _ are _ you talking about?” 

I swing the bag over my shoulder and walk towards the exit. 

“I’ll be on my way.” 

Inuyasha immediately whirls around. “Hold up, you’re not going to track down Naraku are you?” 

The bastard has it coming, I think to myself and open the door. I hear Kagome running out behind me. 

“Wait, Kikyo!” 

I stop in displeasure. The irritation is threatening to spill, and Kagome is dangerously close. The young woman looks at me with slight frustration. 

“I know you’re angry, but it’s too reckless. You think you can just chat with him like old friends?” 

I regard her with a long stare. 

“He won’t do anything to me,” I finally state, turning around. I hear Kagome give an exasperated groan behind me. 

“Kik _ yo _ . Just because—”

“You’re stalling time,” I apathetically comment. “And it’s wiser to go to Taisho right now. She’ll probably want the Chief Inspector to be there as well.” 

Without another word, I proceed. I know Kagome is fuming behind me, but I can only sympathize. I just hope Naraku didn’t get away while we were arguing. 

I push the glass doors forward. A gust of wind crashes into my shoulder blades and arms, blouse flapping around the skin. 

I squint, scanning the parking lot. Another wave of irritation passes over.

He had the audacity to park in the nearest slot. 

Moreover, it didn’t seem like he’s in a big hurry to leave. 

Gripping the strap of my bag, I harshly make my way over to the car. Coming up to the right window, I see that Naraku is calmly reading some magazine, clearly waiting for me. 

My features tighten into a mask. I coldly knock on his window. He glances out and broadly grins. I slightly back away, allowing him to open the door and step out. 

I don’t wait for him to shut the door. 

“You lied.” 

Naraku doesn’t hurry with the response either. He leisurely leans on the car, tucking his hands into his pockets. He finally looks at me through half-lidded eyes; even though it’s November, the sky is clear today and the sun is right across him. 

He deserves it. 

“Yes, I lied. And you believed me.” Naraku tilts his head. “Being lovers has its positive sides.” 

I feel my cheeks burning. 

“I believed you because I thought you didn’t have any use in Kohaku,” I dryly reply. 

“I don’t.” There’s a note of playful defensiveness in his voice. “That’s why I returned him.” 

“You could’ve told me that you picked up Kohaku.” 

Slowly, his face hardens, and his eyes threateningly glimmer. I feel his arms wrap around my waist. 

“Why?” There’s no warmth in the embrace. “Because you let me sleep with you?” 

It’s the police station, I realize. Because we’re so near, when anyone can just walk out or look out the window, he risks it. 

I suppress the primitive flutter of exhilaration. 

“Because I asked.” I press my hands into his arms. There’s a short pause. “And let me go.” 

Naraku smirks. But then, he throws a displeased glance at the sun and, still not letting me go, turns around. Face completely shadowed, he can now look at me fully. I can as well; he’s tall enough to block the sun. 

“That’s a foolish reason. It’s as if I’d give you a free warrant into my office.” 

“It won’t hurt,” I mutter. I’ve given up trying to get out of his grasp, even though my fingers are still digging into his arms. Inside, I’m blaming myself. 

When he kissed me last night, transparently letting me know the four weeks I was gone don’t mean anything and everything is the same as it is, I should’ve figured that it applied to our interests as well. 

When it came to interests, we were both last in priorities. 

I feel my features grimacing in bitterness. 

“I despise you.” 

It’s hypocritical. I treat him exactly the same.

Yet sometimes I forget. 

Naraku softly laughs, and his arms relax. 

***

A week passes. 

The matted windows don’t help to squeeze out the hum of the mall. I massage the bridge of my nose. 

My eyes take a glance at the flaring screen and wince. 

There are only four other people in the computer lab. An aisle above me are two teenagers: one of them is sitting, the other one is leaning over his shoulder. From the brief glimpses of the screen, it looks very similar to Diablo II. Urasue is addicted to it. They try to keep quiet, but it’s hard. 

A young man two seats away from me is actively clicking his mouse. His typing is fast and hard. He always has to lift up his notebook to touch the keyboard, there are a couple of books lying around as well. Next to his computer is a coffee cup and a sandwich in a plastic wrap. 

The last person is the supervisor of the lab. She is sitting at her desk in the corner and is fully absorbed in the book she’s reading. 

The man on my screen gravely looks at me. 

Name: Kugutsu Kaito

Born: January 12, 1947 

Occupation: Doctor 

Kocho and Asuka salvaged whatever information they could from the police records, but they didn’t have much either except general records. In 1960 he graduated the 

Nakanoshima University with a doctorate in pharmaceuticals and molecular biology. In 1964 he was recruited by the government. He worked there for twenty years. 

I lean back on the chair and lightly knead my eyelids. He quit right before the shard production and nearly twelve years before the leak. 

He was fairly suspicious, but that’s where everything ended. 

I sigh and press the eject button. The tray with the CD cheerfully pops out; the monitor blinks, erasing Dr. Kugutsu. 

I carefully place the CD into the case, clicking the plastic latches shut, and slide it into my briefcase. I press the power off and thoughtfully watch how the pixels disintegrate until there’s only a black screen reflecting the beams from the lamps. Swinging my purse over the shoulder, I push in the chair and walk out. On my way out, I hear the teenagers triumphantly exclaim as they pass the level. 

It’s early afternoon, so there’s a good amount of people in the mall. I stand next to the lab for a while, finding the exit. It’s rare when I get out here, so the details easily slip out. 

I think I came from the right. 

Fixing the purse strap on my shoulder and gripping the briefcase, I confidently stroll forward. The stores are bustling today, looking livelier than usual. I curiously pass them with my eyes; there’s something magnetic about them, even if I’m not planning on visiting them. 

I flinch from suddenness. My left leg grows limp, losing mobility. I drag over to the side, allowing the current of people to take my place, and scurry through my bag. I push past the box of contraceptive pills I’ve started drinking again, the small mirror and wallet, until I finally find the capsule of tablets. I bring it up to my eyes: it’s empty. I thoughtfully chew on my lip. 

That’s right. I had the prescription but forgot to pick up the medicine. This is a problem. 

My eyes slide across the mall. There’s a small resting area, decorated with cute plants and red couches. I pull up my strength and enter back into the current. 

When my back touches the soft cushion of the couch, my right arm has gone stiff as well. I take a deep breath, not really worried: after two hours, someone’s bound to notice that I’ve been sitting completely motionless. Even though thirty minutes would be better. 

I take the moment to look around. There’s a children’s store right to the side, and I absently watch the little munchkins run around, marveling at the toys on the shelves. I flinch again. 

Naraku is standing with Kanna next to the cash register. It looks like he just came from work, and it’s comical to see him in a suit among the women and kids. I don’t laugh. 

I don’t know if I should consider myself lucky because the possibility of him not seeing me is close to zero. 

Kanna turns away from the cash register, slightly tired from waiting, and immediately sees me. Her eyes slightly widen, and she touches her father by the arm. Naraku glances behind his shoulder. 

Unlike me, he doesn’t keep a straight face and smirks. The receptionist catches his attention, and he briefly turns away. Kanna doesn’t wait though. 

She quietly shuffles through the crowd and stops next to me. 

“Hello, Kikyo-san,” the girl politely bows. There are faint wrinkles around her eyes, indicating that she’s happy. I smile and nod. 

“Hello, Kanna. How are you?” 

“I’m well. I was picking out a present for Kohaku.” 

“Kohaku?” I am surprised. While we were talking, Naraku walked up to us and is now silently watching us. At the mention of a present, his eyes sarcastically kindle. Kanna shakes her head in affirmation and turns to her father. He easily allows her to take the bag out of his hand. Kanna sits down next to me, delicately sets the bag on the floor, and takes out a large box. She stretches it out to me. I carefully take it with my left arm and place it on my lap. 

It’s a puzzle with four thousand pieces. 

“It was the largest one,” Kanna explains, scooting over closer. “Because he has so much free time now, he’ll find a small puzzle way too easy.” 

I curiously examine the picture. Kanna picked a puzzle that she liked the most, floral, but I find it precious. 

“He’ll love it.” 

Naraku sighs and glances at his watch.

“You’re in a hurry?” I light-heartedly remark without lifting my eyes from the puzzle. 

“No.” He lowers his hand and absently strokes Kanna’s hair. She stills. 

“What are your stimulators again?” 

I slightly stiffen. So he has noticed. 

“Metformin, 85 grams” I answer after a brief pause. “Produced by So-uL.” 

“Is that a Korean company?” Kanna curiously asks. 

“Yes.” 

Naraku smirks and slightly ruffles her hair as if to commend her. Then, he takes away his hand and glances somewhere down the hallway, as if remembering something. 

“There’s a drugstore not far by. I’ll leave Kanna with you.” 

“I have the prescription in my purse.” 

He quickly searches through my purse; I try to ignore his light smirk when he sees the contraceptives. When he finds the crumpled paper with the medication scribbled all over, Naraku silently turns around and blends in with the crowd. 

I follow him with my eyes while Kanna proudly gazes at her well-thought present. 

“These are magnolias,” she places her finger on one of the flowers on the box cover. Her finger tiptoes to the right. “And these are lotuses.” 

I absently lower my eyes to where she is pointing. 

“Do you know every flower here?” 

“Mostly,” the girl simply answers. 

“Can you name them?” 

There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, but Kanna immediately begins to list out the puzzle pieces, brushing each one with her finger. Her mother for some reason only had florist magazines and nature manuals which Kanna read and reread before she moved in with Naraku. I carefully listen; some of the flowers I know, some I don’t. 

Kanna suddenly pauses and hesitantly looks at my arm. I notice. 

“What is it?” 

“You can’t move your right arm.” Kanna quietly states.

“It’s alright. Your father is getting the medicine.” 

The words seem to fly over her head. “At all?” 

I’m quiet for awhile. “No.” 

Kanna cautiously reaches out with both of her hands and gently takes my arm. She then places it on top of the box lid. Now, every single time she names a new flower, she pushes my finger on it. 

As if my hand is moving. 

A capsule of tablets silently appears next to my cheekbone. I suppress the startle and take it with my left arm. 

“Thank you.” 

I uncork the cap with my thumb and, covering the opening with my palm, turn the capsule over. I scoop the tablets together and drop them back inside the bottle until I have only two left. 

Meanwhile, Naraku walked around and stopped next to Kanna. There was something in his pocket, and I understood that I wasn’t the only one who needed something from the drug store. 

I refrain from questions. 

Kanna lifts her head up to look at her father. “Done?” 

“Yes.” Naraku glances at me. “I assume we’re en route.” 

“Yeah,” I absently reply, moving my leg. It always amazes me how quickly the medicine works. Kanna prudently takes the box off my lap and slides it back inside the bag. Naraku helps me stand up, and I wrap my arm around his elbow. 

It’s automatic at this point. 

***

In the subway, Kanna stands in between the seats next to me and curiously gazes out the windows. Naraku is reading a newspaper he picked up on the station. I am leaning on his shoulder, scanning the headlines as well. 

_ Gun fight in Hokkaido _

I reach over and place my finger over the title. 

“That’s old news,” I whisper so that only he could hear. Naraku grins and looks at me. “Why don’t you become the editor then?” 

For a while, I stare into his sarcastic eyes. Slowly, my lips curl into a defeated half-smile. Naraku’s grin slightly widens, but he returns back to reading. 

After a few moments, I think of a reply. 

“If I become the editor, I’ll have all your war crimes exposed,” I smugly whisper into his ear. He turns the page. 

“Make sure to include a transcript of my pardoning.” 

Damn.

“You’re so obnoxious,” I sigh. For a while, I quietly read the humor column on the bottom of the page with him. None of them are particularly funny. 

My eyes travel to his left hand holding the edge of the newspaper. 

The skin in between his index finger and thumb is slightly swollen.

It must have been all the commotion with Kugutsu — but I suddenly remember that there’s a shard embedded there. I tilt my head, getting a better view of the inflamed skin. It looked prosaic.

He probably went to the drug store for some antiphlogistic creams. 

My eyes move back to the newspaper. 

Reaching over his arm, I lift up one of the papers with my fingertips. Naraku wrinkles his forehead in slight irritation while I meticulously scan the back page. 

“What are you reading?” He impatiently asks, though careful not to raise his voice. 

There was barely anything on the page. However, his annoyance is funny. 

“Dating contacts.” I force myself to hold a straight face and pretend as if I’m seriously reading. An advertisement of an upcoming concert stares back at me in astonishment. Tuesday and Wednesday, 18:00 - 20:45. 

“Iha Hiroyuki,” I quickly combined the name of my college roommate and the owner of the American snack-bar two blocks away from my home. 

“Computer programming, enjoys swimming and long-distance jumping…. look, he’s twenty-three as well, that’ll be younger than you….” 

For the three seconds when he loses control of his features, his face is priceless. I take one glance at him and bite my lip, but it’s too late. 

I grin. 

Naraku’s stunned expression reverts back into his ironic mugshot. Holding back my laughter, I lean back while he gives the newspaper another straightening ruffle. 

“That was unimaginative,” Naraku finally speaks, giving me a pointed look. His tone is easy-going, but I can see the subtle threat in his eyes. They were darker. 

I casually ignore them and place my elbow on the top edge of the seat.

“Really?” I recline the cheek against my fist and smile. Business-like. 

“You’re affected every single time.” 

Naraku folds the newspaper on his lap, crosses his arms, and curiously looks at me. 

“Should I then try the same strategy?” His eyes and face don’t match. When the reply floats up in my mind, my heart involuntarily cringes from the old emotion. 

I hesitate. 

It will hurt him. 

“In that regard, I don’t think you can beat Inuyasha.” 

He barely holds down the wince. Even so, his reaction is instantaneous. 

“Want to start another affair, Kikyo?” Naraku mockingly tilts his head. “It’ll be much more scandalous, but you do seem like the type to break up an engagement.” 

I feel myself cracking from the inside, but I can’t let him see it. 

“Yes,” I softly say, turning away from him. “The newspapers will write about it for months.”

His eyes flash. Tightening inside, I look at Kanna. The girl is mesmerized, even if all that is outside are walls and lamps. 

I was devastated and jealous to the point that my mind went dark when I forced myself to let Inuyasha go. Especially because I knew that he fell in love with me again. 

Once when we first met. 

The second time when I became a completely different woman. I don’t know whether it was forced or not, supported by old memories. 

I couldn’t cross that line. Somehow, I felt that I shouldn’t give myself, he didn’t deserve a shell with a lingering candle of determination whose light replaced my breathing. He remembered a completely different human. 

I turn back around and tiredly look at Naraku. He is reading the newspaper again, as if nothing happened, but there’s a faint crease on his forehead and his eyes are barely moving. 

I softly lay my head down on his shoulder. After a while, I feel his muscles slightly relaxing. 

The subway decelerates with an imperceptible hiss. Possessively clutching her bag, Kanna hops down the seat and dutifully takes Naraku’s hand. He firmly holds her so that she wouldn’t be swept by the crowd. They walk out first, and I silently follow them. 

The station is just a block away from the police department. Naraku slows down next to a bus stop and critically looks at me. 

“Would you mind taking Kanna? I don’t want to appear before the cops too often.” 

Coward, even though he has a completely valid point. 

“No.” I take Kanna’s hand. “Meet here?” 

“Fine with me.” 

***

The receptionist raises his eyes from the paperwork. 

“Good afternoon,” I greet him. His face softens, and he smiles. 

“Good afternoon, Kikyo-san.” He looks down at Kanna. The girl is emotionless. 

“I came to visit Isobe Kohaku,” I hasten to continue. The receptionist looks back up. He is slightly confused by Kanna's unusual demeanor, but he politely doesn’t show it. 

“I’ll have to check your bags first.” 

“Of course.” I easily place my purse and briefcase at the metal countertop next to the desk, remembering way too late that I have a smuggled CD with confidential records. My fingers twitch at the last minute when I let go of the briefcase’s handle. To hide my hesitance, I bend down and silently pick up Kanna’s bag and place it on the tray. 

The receptionist whistles his way through my bags. Even when he sees the CD, he light-heartedly comments about the trending artists and places where you could cheaply record down the latest songs. 

His face lights up when he sees the puzzle box. He’s touched. 

“Is Kohaku your friend?” He warmly addresses Kanna. The girl gives him a thoughtful look. 

“No.” 

“They know each other from outside,” I clarify. The tiny fingers slightly squeeze my hand. The receptionist delicately places the box back inside, careful not to crumple the edges of the paper bag. 

“I see.” 

He leads us down the hallway until we’re in front of ward 24. I notice the benches along the walls and think that it’s very convenient. 

As the receptionist unlocks the door, Kanna turns to me and quietly speaks. 

“How much time do we have?” 

“Usually fifteen minutes.” 

Kanna nods and turns back around. Tucking the keys into the pockets, the receptionist opens the door.

Legs crossed, in a neutral grey uniform, Kohaku is sitting on the bed. When the doors squeak open, he looks up in surprise and…. brief apprehension. However, as soon as he sees Kanna, his gloomy face brightens. 

“Hello.” His eyes travel on me. I sense how he immediately clasps up. 

“Hello, Kohaku.” Neither friendly nor hostile. “I was just escorting Kanna here.” 

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” the receptionist amiably reminds and closes the door. So I was right. 

Kohaku is still tense, not sure how to act around me. As if nothing is happening, Kanna shuffles forward and outstretches the bag. She slightly smiles.

“Here.” 

Kohaku looks away and slides off the bed. When he looks inside the bag, his face flushes red from surprise, happiness and embarrassment. 

“A puzzle? But Kanna….” 

I quietly slip off my shoes and climb on the bed. 

“Don’t mind me, alright?” I say, crossing my legs together. Kanna shakes her head and Kohaku, after a quick glimpse, nods as well. 

As the kids begin battling with devious plastic wrap, I take out my phone and glance at the missed calls. All of them are from Kaede. 

I feel a pang of guilt. Even with her strenuous shifts at the hospital, she managed to scratch out some time for me. 

I lower my phone on my lap and absently watch Kanna and Kohaku. They finally defeated the wrap and now scattered the puzzle pieces over the smooth floor. Both were strategists: they were grouping the pieces by color. 

Without Naraku here, it was much easier to think. 

And, ultimately, acknowledge that Naraku got Kugutsu’s shard. The fact that he was involved in the incident was almost certain — there was no way he would miss the opportunity. Him letting go of Kohaku, a condescending act of benevolence towards the police force, almost confirmed the fact. 

I frowned, slightly rocking the phone back and forth in my hand. Was it over that quickly? 

I started back into reality when Kanna began running around and slapping walls. 

“What’s wrong?” I’m completely confused. Kohaku’s falling from laughter. 

“She says there’s a fly and she’s trying to catch it.” 

“There is,” Kanna seriously echoes, hitting the edge of the bed. I slightly move to the side when she attacks the pillow. 

“Don’t you see it?” 

“No,” I confess. I catch Kanna’s fleeting, irritating look, but immediately after, she freezes. 

“Don’t move,” she loudly says. Both I and Kohaku still. 

Kanna looks straight at Kohaku, then takes a very quiet step forward. 

“It’s on your neck,” she whispers. Kohaku stiffens even more. He wrinkles his forehead. 

“I don’t feel it,” he finally admits, also whispering. Kanna doesn’t answer, gaze glued to Kohaku. Something flickers in her eyes.

Then she abruptly hits him on the back of his neck. 

Kohaku yelps and jumps up, violently rubbing the aching spot. Kanna stares at her palm in utter disappointment. 

“It-it got away.” Her voice shakes from distraught. Kohaku, still rubbing his neck, gives a forgiving smile. 

“Oh, leave the poor fly alone.” 

Kanna glimpses up at him, and her face softens. 

She does not look like Naraku at all. 

***

When I tiptoe into the room, all the kids are asleep. Even Ryoma who promised he’ll be awake when my afternoon shift comes is tightly snuggled inside his snowy owl blanket. 

Nap time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember those special rooms before computers became mass stream? Not gonna lie, I remember them very vaguely because I was little when I had to use them, but some things stay. And of course, Diablo.
> 
> I actually want to address some points in my characters that I may have forgotten to mention in my previous notes. So, Naraku. I've seen many people describe him as aggressive and violent but the thing is... the dude was extremely chill. Like half the anime, chill like heck, and there were only a couple of moments when he snapped. Not to say that he wasn't evil: he definitely was (again, not in dialogue, but in actions during which he was, for the most part, absent). I'm trying to capture across his passivity without losing that sadistic streak he has and... we'll see what will result of that.
> 
> Next up is Kanna. I made her Naraku's daughter simply for the fun of it, but actually the dynamic turned out to be way more complex than I thought it would be. Um... whoops.
> 
> Kugutsu is an OC character that is semi-important. I mean, anything involving the shards is bound to be important; by the way, the shards in this story are not purple supernatural diamonds who screw everyone over. The shards are... to be revealed that screw everyone over.
> 
> And yes, Kikyo has some health problems that didn't just come from nowhere. The past is dark and full of shit ;)
> 
> Come chat, folks! I highly appreciate your thoughts and words on this fic, so leave behind anything, even a simple hi!


	6. Lilac Bicycle Garage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kikyo

"Aaa, I want to see that cutsie of a police officer again," the young man loudly groaned. The other three people in the cell gave him a slanted glance but didn't say anything. Not paying attention to them, the young man clasped his hands together and dreamily rolled his eyes.

"The way he shook me by the collar when he was interrogating me... he kept on shouting about the gun fight, and I just told him that he has a pretty face, only the nose is a bit too meaty... " The young man's shoulders shook as he started quietly, but hysterically snickering. The man sitting next to him thoughtfully looked at him.

"You didn't have to come, Jakotsu. They wouldn't have found you," he quietly remarked.

Jakotsu immediately stopped laughing and jerked his head to look at his partner. His young face melted into confusion.

"Huh? What are you talking about, aniki?" He wrinkled his forehead. "I was in the fight as well."

Considering that to be the end of the conversation, Jakotsu whirled his head and carefully scrutinized the inmates. They somewhat self-consciously fidgeted, avoiding his stare.

Jakotsu's face drooped in disappointment, and he fell down on the floor with an exasperated wail.

"All of these boys are _so_ ugly!"

"Get up immediately!" The police officer barked from his post. Jakotsu obediently mopped upwards into a sluggish, criss-crossed position. For a while, he was quiet, lively eyes thoughtfully darting from corner to corner.

"Oi Bankotsu," Jakotsu wondered out loud. Bankotsu expectantly lifted his eyes up on him.

"What is it?"

"I've been thinking." Jakotsu reclined on his arms and tilted his head.

"We're really lucky."

Bankotsu stared at him, then cracked a grin. "Yeah."

He sighed and looked at the police officer. "We are."

"'Cause if you think about it," Jakotsu outstretched his hand as if to prove something. "There was no way we could survive that fight."

The bell rang for the brief break. The inmates slowly began standing up and shuffling into a line. As Jakotsu was walking past the guard, he suddenly and violently coughed.

"Whaaat the hell.... " He quietly muttered, staring at the phlegm and saliva dripping down his palm.

A baton landed in between his shoulder blades, reminding him to keep silent.

***

The windows are open, and the stove is bubbling, and the kitchen smells of an unusual mixture of rain and scrambled eggs.

Pulling the bathrobe closer over my shoulders, I smear a sausage piece in ketchup on the edge of my plate. Across the table, Urasue is reading a newspaper. A cigarette is carefully bobbing in between her fingers.

"Child, put the radio louder," she instructs, not raising her eyes from the news. Chewing on my sausage, I turn the small switch to the right. The weather forecaster's cheerful voice fills the room. Listening to her, Urasue twists her lips in displeasure.

"Dammit, we're out of luck. It's been raining all night, and now the entire weekend."

"Well, they're always wrong you know," I offer as a consolation. Urasue sighs, closes the newspaper and, propping her chin by her elbow, glances achingly into the window.

"Think so? Mark my words, it'll be raining so hard the mud will roll out under the dead."

I pretend to be intently focused on spreading the jam on my piece of bread.

I liked the rain.

"By the way," Urasue points at me with her cigarette in accusation. "Where are you going today so late?"

"It's Koga's birthday," I simply reply. He was also a Chief Inspector, but his haphazard work methods confused me. I didn't really want to come, but Inuyasha insisted.

Urasue takes a long draw from the cigarette. "You sure you want to go?"

I pin the sausage circle with my fork.

"Yes."

The old woman smirks. "You sure they want to see you?"

My eyes dart upwards. "I assume so if they invited me."

Urasue suspiciously looks at me, smoke falling from her mouth.

"They're doing it out of kindness, not because they want to see you. I take it those youngsters won't be the only people at the boy's party. There will be other officers, some with whom you worked." Her lips curl. "It's hard on people. Seeing those who didn't pull through."

"Thank you for the breakfast," I kindly respond and stand up, taking the plate. Urasue shrugs.

"Your welcome. Leave the dishes, otherwise I'll be offended."

I lower the plate into the sink. The edge of my wrist catches on the wet cups standing inside, and I shiver from the uncomfortable feeling. Without another word, I walk out of the kitchen. At the doorway, I slip my feet into the tennis shoes, bending down the collar of the heel.

I left the door of my apartment unlocked, so when I push the handle, it easily opens. As I expected, the room was freezing; I opened all the windows before I went to Urasue's. Crossing the room and pushing away the billowing curtain laces, I push down the window frame. The sound of the rain hushes.

***

Clutching his throat, Jakotsu lowered down on one knee and shook in a spasmodic cough. He wanted to say something but was overpowered by another fit. Bankotsu, walking slightly ahead, glanced over his shoulder.

"What's up with you, Jakotsu?"

"Quit the talking!" The nearby officer immediately bellowed. He pointed his baton at the coughing man.

"You there! Shut it and pull your ass up!"

"Huh?" Jakotsu staggered upwards, wiping his chin. His eyes glimmered. "What was that, cop boy?"

Hands folded behind his back, the senior official disapprovingly watched from afar how the two inmates approach the officer. He shook his head and wrinkled his brows.

"Forgive the following commotion," he quietly apologized. "They're the rowdiest ones. My subordinates are working on them."

They won't break so easily, Hakudoshi apathetically remarked to himself. Not with their history.

"What idiots," he said out loud. The senior officer glanced at him.

"Do you want me to call one of them out?"

"No." Hakudoshi turned away from the yard where the other police officers began enclosing on the rebellious prisoners. "I'm running late."

The other inmates continued wandering around in circles, ignoring everyone. It was strict, orderly, and cruel in here.

It was slightly drizzling when the boy walked outside. The prison building stood near the sea, and the salt was tangible in the air. Seagulls cried above.

The wind lightly shook the fluffball on top of the woolen hat. Hakudoshi tucked his hands into the pockets and sullenly walked down the road. It snowed two days ago and even though the weather unnaturally warmed, the brownish-white slosh remained. It squished unpleasantly under his footsteps.

The houses and the sky were grey. Partly peeled off by the chapping wind, the advertisements on the billboards seeped out the life from the rare passerbys.

It stank like fish at the wharf. The rusty boats bounced on the dark water, the seaweed smudged on their yellowish-white sides. There are two other people, a fisherman crouched inside his shaggy, kayak-resembling boat. He was heavily smoking. There was also a tall woman. She was standing at the edge of the dock, and a long shawl was wrapped around her face and shoulders.

Hakudoshi sat down on top of an empty crate, staring nowhere in particular. He hated this mission.

The puff and grumble of the engine alerted him that a sailboat was approaching. He didn't look up.

There was a constrained gritting, the scratch of the rope against the metal posts. The wharf smoothly swayed to the side when the boat poorly hit the side. The woman in the shawl took a step back.

The boat was docking for around five minutes. The engine switched off.

Finally, Hakudoshi raised his head. The woman was helping an old man get off the boat. They were quietly talking among each other, and she was even smiling. Another passenger jumped off the boat. One of the rugs got caught in her boots, and she muttered a quick curse. Hakudoshi didn't move, intently watching her.

Straightening, Kagura scanned the empty wharf. Her face disdainfully twitched, but then she noticed Hakudoshi. She smirked and, hiding her hands in the pockets of her colorful coat, approached him. Her heels fully echoed on the wooden planks.

"Yo," Kagura sarcastically greeted him. The boy's eyes went up, then down.

"You're inappropriately dressed, Kagura."

Kagura silently raised her eyebrows, noting his thick coat, hat, and knee high rain boots. She gave a skewed grin.

"Maybe. In any case, it's not your concern."

"No," Hakudoshi stood up and began walking. "As long as you are able to catch up."

Insufferable brat. Kagura kept herself from rolling her eyes and followed the boy.

They walked in silence. Hakudoshi was grimly leading the way while Kagura looked around in curiosity. Slowly, that sensation dimmed, replaced by boredom and resignation.

"What a pitiful place we're stuck at," the woman mumbled under her breath, eyes sliding back and forth between the unsightly houses. Hakudoshi left her comment hanging in the air.

The hotel was poorly decorated, but warm. Black-and-white photographs of old Hokkaido and traditional fishermen hung on the walls. A couple were standing at the reception desk, quietly discussing something with the staff. Their two children, having nothing to do, stalled next to the walls and examined the photographs without interest.

Hakudoshi headed straight towards the elevator. Eyeing the kids, Kagura followed. When the metallic doors closed in front of them, the woman loudly sighed and leaned back.

"What a miser. Couldn't get us a better hotel."

"Focus on the mission, Kagura." The boy slightly creased his forehead. Kagura tiredly scoffed.

"I focus better in a five-star hotel in a metropolis, not some countryside." She must be cranky from the trip. A sudden thought appeared to Hakudoshi, and his face even elongated from the realization.

"Are you seasick?"

Kagura, still lamenting her situation, glanced at the boy in surprise.

"No. Why?"

Hakudoshi's face immediately reverted back to a neutral self. "Never mind."

Their room was right across the emergency staircase. It was convenient, essentially built for an easy escape.

As soon as she crossed the entrance, Kagura fell on the bed, stretching her arms out. She closed her eyes.

"Finally."

Taking off the gloves and hat, Hakudoshi gave her a pointed look. Opening her eyes, Kagura stared at the ceiling.

"Do you have coffee?"

"No." Hakudoshi slid open the balcony. A seagull hopped on the railing. The woman tsked, but didn't say anything. The boy gazed at the rooms across, many of them shielded by the same beige curtains and felt a knot of frustration forming inside his throat.

"This is so pointless."

Kagura mirthlessly smirked behind him. "It's Naraku, what did you expect? He'll put those cops through hell just for the fun of it."

"It's too risky." His fingers tighten on the frame. Risky and stupid. "He's throwing away two completely functioning shards."

Kagura managed to shrug even though she was laying down.

"Apparently he believes that he can get them back." Her lips formed into a worn-out smile. "And that messing with their brains is well worth the trouble."

A quiet sigh blew through the room.

"Whatever, Hakudoshi. Let Naraku do whatever he wants." She's silent for awhile.

"It's not like you're smarter than him."

Looking out the balcony, Hakudoshi didn't answer.

***

They had the oddest meeting places. Mostly it came down where each of them was, and they'd coordinate over the phone which backstreet would be closer.

I turn around the grocery store. There are several trucks unloading the products, the gas puffing from the vibrating pipes and the smell of trash and exhaust stalling in the air.

Kocho is sitting on one of the crates, one leg thoughtfully crossed over the other. The workers give her confused and irritated glances, but she passively ignores them. At the sound of my footsteps, she lifts her head up and her eyes warm. The young woman stands up.

"Hello, Kikyo-san."

"Hello, Kocho," I faintly smile and stretch out a book to her. _100+ Knitting Designs_. "Thanks for allowing me to borrow the book."

She easily takes it and hides it inside her purse. "Your welcome."

The book was actually a small box, the smuggled CD lying in the middle.

We make our way out from the alley. The sky is hovering above our heads, not sure whether to rain or not. The torn off Now Hiring poster wavers on the pavement, about to be swept by the wind.

"How is Asuka?" I softly inquire.

"She's doing well." Kocho pulls up the collar of her jacket, slightly shivering from the cold. I don't ask for further details; the girls weren't very talkative and I never pressured them more than what they wanted to tell.

"Do you want to go to the park?" I offer instead. Kocho nods, holding the jacket collar close to her nose. I lead the way while she shuffles behind me.

She and her sister will be twenty-two next month.

At the park Kocho visibly relaxes. There are less people, and it's easier to talk about confidentialities.

"The Senior Commisioner is vexed," Kocho sighs, placing her hand on the bench. She lifts it up and rubs her fingers, wondering if it's too damp to sit on.

"An incubated shard held by one of the former workers. Anyone would get angry."

"Why did no one check Kugutsu?" I quietly ask. Kocho moves past the bench, deciding against sitting down.

"I assume everyone is scanned before their retirement."

An unpleasant sensation crawls up my spine. The words pertain to me too much.

"They did check him." Kocho shakes her head. "He was perfect. He didn't even move around like many other possessors tend to do." She joylessly chuckles.

"How long did he live here?"

"Twelve and a half years."

So even before the accident, I think in loss. In the past four years, I never heard his name. Then again, crime stopped holding a significance for me.

"Didn't he deal weapons?"

"That's how we caught him." Kocho gives another heavy sigh. "After his departure, he lived mostly on pensions from the agency, but it seems that he did some small side-business. His wife used to own a small arms shop here."

"He had a wife?"

"She's irrelevant. She died seven years ago."

The young woman is quiet for a moment.

"He shouldn't have gone into guns," Kocho finally admits. "The local police caught some cheap thug during a shooting and confiscated his barrel. They traced it back to Kugutsu."

She wrinkles her forehead.

"His small business grew large in the past month."

"He needed extra funds," I emotionlessly comment. Kocho nods. Her face unnoticeable falls.

"From what I heard, no one above thought Kugutsu would be harboring a shard since the project began after his departure."

"It could've been an accident. After all, many of them were leaked. He came across one and began studying out of pure interest. He was a scientist, right?"

"That's the theory everyone else is leaning towards as well."

We pass a playground. Two little boys are wildly running around while a teenage girl, the one babysitting them, is reading a book on the swing.

"The equipment gave it away," Kocho absently continues, cracking her knuckles. I can hear them even through the mittens.

"Your Superintendent recognized it right away. I've seen the photos she sent." She smirks.

"It's terrible, but Kugutsu captured the main idea."

"That's impossible without insider blueprints."

"He was smart. Or, more likely, he kept in contact with several colleagues who may have touched upon some aspects. Just like us and you, Kikyo-san."

I sadly smile.

We cross the picnic area. It's abandoned.

"So what did the Senior Commissioner decide?" I finally say. Kocho moves her shoulders, revealing her unease.

"He said that the shard ultimately left to Naraku."

That means the case was closed. Early on, the Security Bureau wanted to hunt down Naraku, but then decided that waiting while he collects the majority of the shards and then closing onto him was a more practical strategy. After all, even with shards, it was just one individual.

Naraku seemed calm, not trying to step out of the noose, but I knew he was perfectly aware of what was going on. I never felt like asking what he'll do about the situation.

He'll figure it out.

"Mission failed," I sigh. Kocho's quiet, watching a couple of sparrows jump around the puddle. I glance at the girl.

"When do you have to leave?"

She turns her head to me. "Fifteen thirty today."

"Then I won't hold you any longer." I stop. Kocho stops as well, an expectant expression on her face. I smile.

"Thank you for everything. Don't do anything that will annoy the Senior Commissioner, and give my regards to Asuka."

"I will." The usually composed girl smiles. "Good luck, Kikyo-san."

I watch her walk away, a void forming around my heart. My meetings with the girls leave behind an ache; every time I realize how much I miss my work, especially the one I had before the project.

I'm sure Inuyasha missed it as well, but not so much as before.

***

Music in the front of the mind. The contents of the magazine in the middle. Everything else in the backdrop.

Legs crossed, in between two pillows and with a leather jacket over my shoulders, I flip through a Vogue. Koga's sweet girlfriend, after awkwardly trying to bridge a conversation with me, brought me an entire stack of fashion periodicals after I dropped the hint that I'm a clothes enthusiast.

It's more to stay occupied really. My fashion style is hardly up to trend.

There's a scented page, advertising Chanel. I lift up the magazine to my face and take a small sniff. It's barely present.

As I place the magazine back on my lap, my eyes travel around the room. They placed a long table in the middle which took up most of the space. Salad bowls, half empty paper cups with juice and liquor, plates with appetizers and chicken cramp on it, threatening to push one another over the edge. Everyone is either in the kitchen or the hallway, laughing and exchanging news. The only exception is a young girl from Koga's division. Curled up on the other side of the couch I'm sitting on, she's deeply asleep; she just got back from a difficult shift.

I drop the magazine on the forming stack at my feet and take a new one.

It's uncomfortable. When I accept their invitations, I regret it the entire evening. When I decline, I regret all the same. It's a primitive desire to stay afloat, to be within some kind of social circle. The other alternative is vacuum which is terrifying.

It's unbearable.

"Kikyo!" Inuyasha self-consciously winces from his loud voice when he sees the sleeping girl. I lower the magazine and expectantly look at him. He tweaks his way in between the couch and the table, turns around a chair and sits down, facing me.

"What are you doing?" He whispers while placing his paper cup on the table.

"Reading."

This was so painful, him coming to me every single time and trying to drag me out of my vacuum. Part of me desperately wanted to give in, but I held back. No one except Inuyasha wanted me there, and I didn't want to ruin it for them. Or him.

Inuyasha places his elbows on his knees and slightly leans forward. He tilts his head and gives a soft smile.

"Interesting?"

"A little."

He grins, tension slipping off his shoulders. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, and I only have to reach out and place my hand to feel his skin.

I jokingly smile.

"Who won that round, you or Koga?"

Inuyasha immediately straightens and crosses his arms, turning his head away.

"Kheh! Who cares?"

So Koga. My smile widens, and I lower my eyes on the magazine.

"Don't worry, you'll get him next time."

Inuyasha glances at me with one eye, before broadly grinning.

"Sure I will!"

We're so far away.

The shoji-style door slides open, and red-curled Ayame appears at the entrance.

"Um…. Kikyo-san?"

I crane my neck to see her. Resting his elbow on the top edge of the chair, Inuyasha also turns around.

"Yes?"

Ayame uncertainly points towards her left.

"The Superintendent is at the door. She came to see you."

"What?" Inuyasha's eyes widen from surprise. I'm surprised and somewhat unnerved as well.

"I'll be right over." I close the magazine and, without looking at Inuyasha, stand up and make my way towards the woman. Even so, he manages to catch me by the elbow.

"Wait, Kikyo... "

I look over my shoulder and give a short smile.

"I'll be alright."

His fingers hesitate, digging into the bone of my elbow. After a beat, they relax and release. I fix the jacket on my shoulders and walk past Ayame. I try not to look around a lot when I pass through the hallway. They politely let me through, not really paying attention to me, for which I'm grateful. I pause at the small porch and slip inside my heels. I open the door and quietly walk outside.

The tall woman is standing next to the edge of the staircase but is careful not to lean at the dirty railing. She holds the elbows with her arms, and the heavy fur coat drapes from her shoulders.

"Ah, Kikyo." Her lips stretch into a long smile when she notices me. I slightly bow. "I was told I can find you here."

"Good evening, Superintendent Taisho. How can I help you?"

Instead of answering my question, she slightly glimpses over my shoulder at the closed door.

"Is the party going a full swing?"

"I don't find it very interesting," I evenly say. The superintendent looks back at me and smiles.

"I assume not since you're an outsider."

I remain silent. There's nothing I can argue against. The superintendent sighs; straightening one elbow, she massages her forehead, shallow wrinkles rippling across her features.

"It's a shame that you left my division. I could've had both you and the other inspector girl under my wing."

"Is this recruitment, Superintendent?"

Her eyes flicker in between her fingers and slightly narrow.

"No. I give second chances only to people who want them." Her voice cools down. The woman lowers her arm, allowing it to dangle from her other elbow.

"I'm saying it's a shame because then you wouldn't have been a headache."

Her bright hazel eyes stare into mine.

"You've lost your professionality. You treading around the Kugutsu case was more than discernible."

"It's closed, isn't it?" I quietly say. The superintendent inclines her head and smiles.

"Yes it is. You're lucky."

For a moment, it's completely silent. The superintendent fixes her coat and takes a step towards me. Her dyed white hair sways to the movement.

"Honestly, I thought you gave up on your foolishness and tagged along Kagome's group simply out of nostalgia." Her cold voice easily overpowers the laughter from the apartment. "But it seems not. Just one thing, Kikyo: are you willing to be erased by the NPASB?"

If I ever had relief, it was in the understanding that only three people knew about this: Taisho, Naraku, and me. Nonetheless, I felt my mind achingly cringe because despite everything, I wanted to live. The fact that I was tolerated simply meant that the Lieutenant General and the rest didn't believe in the success of my mission. I was a dead, idealistic fly, grasping to the police and the shards to remind them of my existence. I barely notice how Taisho's coat brushes my arm as she turns around.

"Don't become pesky, Kikyo." Descending down the staircase, she tilts her hand in a goodbye gesture.

"I don't mind what you do, but it'll be pathetic if you get killed. Alright?"

Her heels softly clatter on the stairs, farther and farther away. I hear the door swing down below and shut close.

I feel empty, as if the superintendent scooped out every emotion. My fingers mechanically encircle the door knob and after a minute, I force myself to push the door open.

Inuyasha is waiting right there, reclining against the wall and staring nowhere. When I enter, he startles and quickly straightens up.

"Kikyo, what did she say?"

Simply out of nostalgia. Her words burn inside my mind, and I manage a strained smile.

"Something of our own. Inuyasha, I'll probably be going. Tell Koga happy birthday from me."

"Kikyo, what happened?" Inuyasha takes me by the elbows, and I inwardly grimace on how he could be so innocent.

"Kikyo." His eyes search my face in concern. "What did that Taisho tell you?"

" _Nothing,_ Inuyasha," I forcefully repeat, taking a step back. My elbows slip out of his grasp. "I just need to go home."

"Al-alright... " His face is betrayed. I turn away and close the door.

When I step out into the street, it's cold and dank, the air filled with winter frost. The clouds are grayish-blue, the wide crescent shimmering behind them. Thinking about nothing in particular, I walk away from the buildings towards home.

The cars occasionally pass by, leaving behind a brief gust of wind. The hairs on my bare arms slightly shiver, but I don't feel like putting on the jacket. My eyes quietly lower to the side where my shadow follows me. For most of the time, it's nearly invisible, but whenever I walk under the yellow lamp posts, it's harsh and clear-cut.

I cross the street towards my neighborhood. The traffic lights blink green and red. The homeless are burning newspapers in the tall metal trash bins, following me with their eyes. The bars are brightly lit, the giddy and gruff music escaping from the doors. A couple of women are hanging around the shops.

It's only twelve o'clock.

My eyes tiredly shift towards the bars. I pause next to one of them. It's title was written out in English, the neon blue cursive curling around the shape of a bicycle.

The party left the longing for society, human voices and faces, unsatisfied and crippled, and I needed to somehow fill it up. Sighing, I walk up and push the door open.

The smell of alcohol is very strong. People are standing nearly shoulder to shoulder, standing or sitting, playing cards, making bets, arguing and mocking. Without looking at anyone, I walk over to the bar stand.

"Evening, Lao-san."

Shaking a cocktail, the bartender glances at me in surprise. The current customer, a stout man with thick curly hair gives me a sideways look.

"Kikyo-san?" Lao uncorks the cocktail and begins to pour it inside a tall glass. "The regular?"

I've been here before enough times to be remembered but not to be common. I fold the elbows over the counter, not looking anywhere in particular.

"Yes, please."

Lao slides the cocktail over to the curly-haired man and turns around to the bottles behind him. I absently watch how he pours in some strong beer into a short glass. I did not belong with these people, but perhaps because they did not care for me, the discomfort was easier to tolerate.

I place some cash on the counter. My fingers wrap around the cool glass.

"Thank you. Are the billiard rooms open?"

"Yes, Kikyo-san. Enjoy your drink." Lao shortly bows and addresses the man who just came up to the bar stand.

Firmly holding my drink, I silently shuffle through the crowd towards the side doors. When I push them open with my elbow, a long hallway with a red, dusty carpet stretches out in front of me. The doors swing behind me.

The voices of the bar muffle, as if blocked inside a radio. The soft clonking of billiard balls ring in the air, as do the quiet voices and the creaking floor when the players walk around the table. My heels sink into the carpet as I pass the rooms.

I enter the second to last one. The ceiling fan evenly swifts through the air with its long metal blades. The cues are neatly organized on the wall, but the balls are scattered all over.

I sit on the edge of the table and put down my jacket and glass next to me. My toes slightly push on the inside of the heels, and they lightly slip off my feet.

I'm quiet. My legs dangle off the edge, toes happily breathing in the air. My shoulders are slouched, and my eyes wander aimlessly across the walls in front of me.

It ached inside.

I hear the glass door lightly swinging open but don't move. The footsteps echo softly on the wooden floor.

"Lao told me you were here."

I slightly turn my head and look at Naraku. He's more informal than usual; the sleeves are rolled up, and there's no tie. His face is sarcastic, but his eyes are slightly duller. He had a lot of work.

"So?" I simply ask.

"No, nothing."

Naraku walks around the other side of the table, disappearing from my view. With some sort of strain inside, I listen how he takes off one of the cues from the wall. It's quiet for a while as he looks it over, before leaning over the table. I hear a short click and the soft rolling across the table.

There's a clang of a ball falling inside the net.

"Good job."

"Thank you."

This is just a coincidence. I look down at the floor, at my gleaming black heels. The ache inside is growing wider.

Naraku moves closer to me, trying to find a good position to shoot the ball at. He leans a couple of times, measuring the angle, before finally straightening up.

"Could you move?"

"No."

Without another word, Naraku walks past me. I try not to squeeze my eyes shut from the loneliness.

I hear how his shirt slightly ruffles as he leans forward, the cue sliding against his fingers. There's a short click.

"You know how to play billiard, right?"

One of the balls slowly rolls up to my glass and jacket. I tiredly nod.

"I'm not that good at it."

There's another click. The balls run across the table.

"What happened, Kikyo?" His voice is very quiet. My toes, losing the heat from the shoes, slowly cool down.

"Nothing."

Naraku straightens. I hear how he walks over and puts away the cue. My fingers lie motionlessly on my lap.

I lift up my head and gaze at the opposite wall.

"Leaving?"

After making sure that the cue won't fall, Naraku walks over and stops in front of me. He softly smiles.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

I don't smile back. "I asked if you were leaving."

The smile falls from his lips. For a moment, Naraku is looking at me, then he silently shakes his head. It tightens inside of my chest. His palms softly close on my knees and almost gently roll them in small, careful circles. The movement awkwardly eases me down, tension slowly sliding off my shoulders.

"I know why you came," I quietly say, looking searchingly at his face. His expression doesn't change, but his eyes shift towards the glass of beer at my side.

"I don't want to take you drunk, Kikyo."

I have the full ability to refuse, but I shake my head, sensing how everything stills inside me.

"I didn't drink it."

His eyes return back to my face. Something breaks inside of them, but he doesn't show me what.

I close my eyes when he lowers his head and passes his cheek over my neck. He's cold, right from the street, but his breath, evenly falling down, warms the skin. It's a tender, grazing sensation. I slightly lean in, his hair tickling my nose, breathing in the asphalt and the night. Tiptoeing towards proximity.

That cursed proximity, even though it was never close enough.

His hands on my knees slowly move my legs apart. They slide, slightly ruffling the cloth of his pants. His fingers run along my tights, slipping underneath the skirt.

"Naraku?"

He pauses. I open my eyes, gazing somewhere at the crease between the wall and the ceiling. My skirt limply rests on his hands. My heart dully thumps inside my throat.

"Be slow.... alright?" I nearly whisper those words. The palms slip farther up, where it's the hottest and my legs slightly press against his.

His nose brushes against my neck as he faintly nods, silently acknowledging my request. He slides down the tights and lace, and the air nestles against my skin. I close my eyes again and glide one of my arms up to his shoulders. I position the other around the edge of the table, fingers lightly touching the lacquered wood.

I hear a quiet, metallic sound as he unbuckles his belt.

My arm deeply falls around his shoulders again when he moves back in.

It doesn't seem like a culmination of an uneventful day or a retribution for one more failure. We're not drugs either.

He slightly pauses, just enough for me to wonder how long he waited for this.

Sharply inhaling, my fingers dig, the shirt crumpling under my nails until I feel his shoulder blade. Naraku groans, roughly moving inside. His hands, still underneath my skirt, press my hips against the hard edge.

In the back of my mind, I realize that I must be tight. I feel the heat rising in my cheeks. But before I can say anything, he thrusts again and my head tilts back.

My skirt slightly catches on the top of his hands as they glide down. I feel their sensation leaving me, as well as him, deeper. Through half-closed eyes, I hold back my moan as I arch. His arms, wrapped around my back, slightly push at that arch. My fingers holding the edge of the table numbly unclench, the red skin slowly rising in the indents. Almost unconsciously, I press both hands against his forearms, as if I'm trying to push him away. My legs shiver and tighten around, not letting him go.

When I bury my face inside his shirt, the smell of cologne stings my tongue. Thinly breathing, crumbling from the rocking inside of me, I trace my lips over the cloth of his shirt. The small plastic button lightly touches my lip, and then I feel the taut skin. It's warm and damp from the sweat, and I can feel his breathing.

Even though he tried to suppress it, his skin shivers underneath my lips,

My breathing rings inside my ears, but I hear a quiet sound. He pushes my back harder and slightly shifts the angle. I squeeze my eyes and press my forehead against his skin. His sweat lightly touches my forehead, before rolling, grazing the tip of my nose and mouth, down his chest.

I can feel the side edge of the bone of his knees as my legs rub against his. The trembling inside me is slowly rising from the blackness, while his shoulder blades roll underneath my arms. Naraku's building as well, but I know I'll come before him. I try not to think about it, yet the anticipation overruns my thoughts until it hurts.

I painfully straighten out, not feeling the shirt underneath my nails. His arms tightly grip my waist.

It breathes through me.

My hand nearly slips off the table when I shudder against him, leaning onto his chest and barely sensing how the folds of his shirt grow taut under my fingers as his body convulses after mine.

Through his ragged breath, I think I hear a faint outline of my name.

My legs slightly clench when I feel his burning.

Naraku heavily sighs into my shoulder. Still slightly shaking, I tilt my head to the side, gazing at him. His eyes are open, but I doubt he sees anything right now. His shoulders are slouched even though he's not really tired.

I think he waited, not bothering to go to different women.

"Well, Kikyo... " Through his silent intonations, I suddenly understand that he won't go further; he didn't want to test my boundaries today. My throat nearly clasps from desperation. Not having the words to argue, I simply press on his shoulders, preventing him from moving.

Again, his expression doesn't change. But the eyes darken.

For a moment, Naraku keeps still, seeing if I'll move or if I really want him to stay.

Half a minute passes, and his face brushes my ear.

"Wrap your legs around me," he quietly whispers. Painfully thankful, I squeeze my eyes shut, holding him close. My legs lock around his hips.

With one hand, Naraku carefully lifts me up and moves across the table. With the other he pushes away the billiard balls. They softly bump against the edges.

I feel the hard surface underneath my wet back. I glance to the side; the door is still open. Belated uncertainty weakly floats in my mind like a ghost.

"Naraku?" My words are almost inaudible. My eyes shift back, straight forward, staring at the ceiling above.

"Mmm?"

"You left the door open." My knuckles crumple between his fingers and the table as his hand lightly pushes on mine. I can feel his breath just next to my lips.

"Who cares, Kikyo."

He enters me almost unnoticeably, and a shiver runs several times across my skin. My knees involuntarily press into his sides, and my toes curl, catching on the thin net of the stockings. I can faintly see his shoulders rising and descending, the ceiling lamp's blades flickering in a monotonous circle.

I close my eyes and moan. I don't think he cared at this point, whether he evoked that sound or not. I know his eyes are closed as well.

The wet blouse clings onto the table's covering as I arch. For a moment, my damp back is cold, but then his arms bring it back to the skin as he embraces me. My fingers numbly wrap around his neck. Not opening my eyes, I press him close and nearly groan from feeling his breath on my skin.

His teeth softly graze my contour, tracing out the bone. I slightly tilt my face, making it easier for him. His thumb runs across my neck, feeling how it rises and falls.

When he hits again, I arch so hard that I can acutely feel his body through the clothes. He presses down, strengthening the sensation, and I feel him everywhere and deeper.

He muffles his sounds in my hair.

Mind blurred, I lightly rest my hand on his cheek. Naraku leans into my touch. Slowly, I guide him until his face is above mine.

His eyes slowly slide over. My hand slips down and quietly curls on my chest. When I can't see him, he doesn't have to control his face when he's losing himself, especially when he's losing himself to psychological pain. I can see the cracks in his features and it hurts me for having to force him to keep a mask, but I have to see his face.

I clumsily wrapped my leg around his knee, and my nails accidentally scratched his arms, but the wave is still too hard. My eyes slightly widen. I can feel him hugging me, chin resting on his shoulder as he helps me to regain my breath. Mind in a haze, I'm not able to tell when he comes and it is only when his body relaxes inside my arms that I understand it's over.

For a while, we're in each other's arms, still lightly shaking. Naraku slowly lowers me down and carefully moves to the side. My skirt detachedly straightens against my skin. I close my eyes, hearing my breath inside my ears. My hand mechanically moves against my stomach.

"Kikyo."

Without opening my eyes, I roll over to the side, his shirt pressing against my nose and cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello folks! Sorry for posting a day late, I couldn't really squeeze it in yesterday. 
> 
> SO. I'll start from the end. To tell the truth, sex scenes are not specialty, and, honestly, my goal is more about getting sensuality of the situation rather than explicitness. I think overt, hardcore smut would distract from the plot, so rather than focusing on the physical, I focus on the psychological. Even though this scene was pretty physical...
> 
> Ok, for the less interesting but still important notes.
> 
> The reason why Jakotsu (ei, my boy Jakotsu!) was scolded for lying down in a cell is because lying down is not allowed in Japanese prisons. Japanese prisons and the criminal system are in general strict. Like, very strict. 
> 
> Second thing, the government-police thing. I know I've used the term government before but it's not actually correct. The police and the government are separate entities in Japan (even though the higher ranks get their salaries from the national budget.... it's confusing).
> 
> So, the National Police Agency (NPA) is the umbrella term. It has six internal bureaus and 9 police departments (one for each region). The Superintendent (Taisho) is the head of a police department while Inspectors (Kagome, Koga) are basically group leaders.
> 
> The National Police Agency Security Bureau (the NPASB that Taisho was referring to) is one of the internal bureaus regulating internal security affairs (counter-intelligence, counter-terrorism, cyber-terrorism, stuff like that). The Senior Commissioner is the head of the bureau (I think. I couldn't get a clear confirmation). Inuyasha and Kikyo both used to work in the NPASB and then... something happened. 
> 
> Alright, that's it for today! Thank you for reading and leave by reviews! 


	7. After but Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naraku & Kikyo

The slippers were thin and so perfectly allowed the cold through. 

Arms hanging over the balcony rail, I emotionlessly look ahead, not really thinking about the city in front of me. The bedroom behind is dark. 

The moments on the billiard table were the closest Kikyo would come being with me physically in the same bed. Naturally, she didn’t go. 

The bathrobe lightly flaps against my ankle. 

Her subtlety was always more than telling. She knew that I wanted her, naked, lying next to me. I don’t know why she thought making love to her against a wall, on tables and couches and counters was any different, but it was probably Inuyasha. She didn’t want to replace the memory of his heated flesh, lying inside her arms and the sheets tangled at her legs, with... something else. My eyes travel across the buildings, not seeing them. 

That’s why I always came inside of her, despite the tiresome discretion that I’ve developed in sexual matters after I learned about Kanna. It’s almost as if I wanted to get Kikyo pregnant. Just to prove to her how useless it was belonging to Inuyasha. 

There were many things I wanted to prove to her. 

I turn around, stepping back into the bedroom. I lift the hanging bath towels on my way. 

It’s a Sunday, but I managed to wake up at six. Ahead was an unproductive morning; everyone was dismissed, so there was no point going to the offices. Besides, half of them were in Hokkaido. 

I glance at Kanna’s room as I pass it. The door was closed. The girl was still sleeping. 

At the kitchen, I turn on the stove and quietly place down the frying pan. I quickly mash up some eggs. While they were cooking, I searched through the pile of newspapers heaped on top of a transmitter that looked like a radio for anything that I haven’t read yet. I see an unfamiliar photograph and pull out the newspaper by the corner. 

When Kanna, still in her nightgown, sleepily shuffles into the room, I already scanned over the first two pages. I’ve read it before, but I didn’t want to find a new one. My eyes flicker above the upper edge. 

“Why are you up so early?” 

She shrugs. I nod towards the turned-off stove. More than half of the omelet is in the frying pan. 

“Breakfast’s over there.”

Kanna nods and walks over to the stove. I silently watch her take out a plate, then scramble some omelet on it. Her hands wrap around the plastic teapot, but then she glances behind her shoulder at me. 

“Is the water boiled?” 

“Yes.” 

Kanna drags over a mug standing next to the sink and pours in some hot water. She then plops a tea bag, waiting for a whole minute for the tea to disperse. For some reason, she drank only very strong tea. 

The tea bag’s string swaying over the mug, Kanna sat down across me and placed down her plate. For a while, we sat in silence, the sound of the fork scratching against the ceramics and the quiet huff as the girl blew on her hot tea. 

“I’ve put in the new recording,” Kanna blankly states, not looking up at me. I raise my eyes at her. 

“His sister came in yesterday.” 

The chance of the conversation being fruitful was slim, but it was still worth checking out. I close the newspaper, shifting it to the side, and reach over to the transmitter. 

“Thank you, Kanna.” The radio happily begins preaching to the kitchen. There were only three covers: morning yoga instructions, a weather forecast, and traffic broadcast. It randomly turns on to the yoga instructions. The young, energetic female voice begins enthusiastically talking to the upbeat music. 

“Alright, everyone, step into the second position, on the count of three stretch, one, two.... ” 

The radio abruptly falls silent. The static rumbles for a few seconds, before clearing up into familiar voices. 

“.... this is Grandfather. See?” 

There’s a rustle of paper. I realize that Sango is showing Kohaku photographs. The boy must have not come to his senses yet or at least partially so. There’s a long pause, and Kohaku’s voice is very quiet. 

“I see.” 

There’s another rustle as the boy turns the page. I can feel Sango’s suppressed disappointment through the transmitter. Kohaku probably felt it as well because he asked her immediately after. 

“This is also Grandfather, right?”

“Yes.” Sango’s voice slightly livens up. “This is him with his colleagues. The one on the right... ” 

I absently listen, propping my chin with my fist. Kikyo must be sleeping in right now; I wore her out. 

It was unusual to balance the intimacy of our relationship with the cold rationality of our actions. Even though, frankly, it was hardly balancing; whenever the matter touched the shards, all personal considerations were mercilessly shoved to the side. Despite her determination, Kikyo was on the losing side: her skills, not attuned by constant exposure in the field, were slowly deteriorating. It didn’t help that both the NPASB and her ex-fiancé’s group were going against her as well. 

However, if she did reach her goal and destroy a shard, her life will be forfeited. I wouldn’t even try making the effort - the cops will deal adequately enough. Yet that won’t change the fact that everyone’s efforts were for nothing.

“Is Grandfather still alive?” 

I almost miss how Sango slightly stuttered, swallowing her discomfort. “No... no, he died a couple years back... ” 

Kohaku is a gambit. The police obviously don't care who has the shard, but about now their attention should transfer to the two Hokkaido idiots. Yet for Kikyo it will be an interesting dilemma, one that should make her finally give up. 

“How’s your progress on the puzzle?” The young officer’s voice is cheerful. I thoughtfully look over at Kanna. 

“Where did you hide the tapes?” 

“In the leg of the bed,” the girl apathetically answers, holding onto her mug with both hands. “A puzzle piece rolled over there, and I thought it was convenient.” 

I wonder if it’s my rationality peeking through or if she learned it from Hakudoshi. Her eyes flash upwards. 

“I also hit him to stimulate the shard.” 

I arch my eyebrow. That was a strong recommendation, but not an explicit order.

“And how did you explain it?” 

The brown, melancholic mirrors lower back down on the tea. 

“I said there was a fly sitting on his neck.” 

I softly smirk. “But it got away.” 

Kanna stares into her mug. The dark remnants of tea sweep across the bottom, some slightly floating upwards. 

“Yes.” 

Her mother didn’t leave me much with a choice when she dumped Kanna, already seven years old, on me, but I guess she told her to obey my every word. It’s funny that I knew Kikyo longer than I knew my daughter. What I didn’t know is if the girl was genuine when she softened with me in the presence of others - maybe she was just pretending or she was actually proud of having a father to present. Maybe other people helped her relax. I don’t know. 

I switch off the radio and stand up. 

“You should go to sleep. It’s very early and there’s no work today.” 

Kanna silently nods, but doesn’t move. I wait a minute, then my eyes shift on the mug.  _ Best Dad  _ was written in swirly cursive English. I have no idea where the mug came from. 

“Drinking strong tea won’t get you sleepy, Kanna.” 

“Understood.” Kanna quietly places the mug on the table and slips off the chair. “Good night.” 

I don’t correct her. “Good night, Kanna.” 

***

From the small slit between the blanket and the pillow, I gaze at the reflecting glass of the alarm clock. It’s eleven. 

I close my eyes and snuggle even deeper, pulling the blanket to the tip of the nose. His cologne still lingers inside my mind, even though I washed off his sweat and heat during that pitch black one-o’clock shower in my apartment. The walks home were always surrealistic and torturous. Still feeling him in between my legs as I sit in the taxi, knees uncertain as I try to confidently walk, the wet blouse hiding underneath the leather jacket. 

Without opening my eyes, I almost automatically cross my legs and pull them in. My arms wrap around, clasping onto the shoulder blades, and for a moment, I imagine it’s his body that I’m holding. He had a scar on his back. My fingers thoughtlessly slip down on my own pinkish skin at the shoulder and neck, focusing on the sensation. It’s slightly uncomfortable. Opening my eyes, I hug myself closer. I suppose his body is warmer than mine. 

Yet. 

It flushes inside me, and I feel an ache in my chest. I knew how desperately he wanted to be here right now. I wanted him too. However, my mind breaks every single time he’s close to me. Somehow, some way it didn’t work. 

I bury my face into the sheets, rubbing my nose along them. The air slowly disappears from my lips. Despite everything, I didn’t trust him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter today, folks. I felt it was crucial to have some sort of emotional transition between, well, essentially the exposition that I was building in my first five chapters to the plot I'll launch off next update. Yes, plot!
> 
> This is also probably the only time I'll put two perspectives into one chapter. It's short, it's transition, it needs both outlooks on the scene because Kikyo and Naraku won't just sleep together and not think about it. No, not happening.
> 
> Lastly, we get to Kanna and Naraku. Yes, toxic. But that's who Naraku is, and I don't want to idealize.
> 
> Thank you for reading and all the reviews!


	8. Tickets from Taisho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kikyo

I self-consciously rub the back of my ankle with the tip of my heel. Looking at Inuyasha’s back — he was ordering the coffee, telling loudly something to the girl across the counter — I acutely think of how I had sex with Naraku last night. On a billiard table. My cheeks turn beet red, and I frantically try to calm down. 

Inuyasha is already approaching our table, the two coffee cups steaming in his hands. 

“Here you go.” 

I take the offered cup and nod. “Thanks.” 

He lightly jerks his head, indicating that it’s no problem. I take a large gulp and instantly cough. Bringing the cup to his lips, Inuyasha chuckles and slides me over a couple of napkins. 

“Sheesh, Kikyo, you know it’s hot.” 

“Sorry,” I croak, breathing into the napkin. It was a distraction, both for me and for him, and I once more feel extremely guilty. Clearing my throat, I take a diligent sip and pointedly stare at Inuyasha. 

“See?” I swallow, and my gum and roof of the mouth lite ablaze. “I remember.” 

Inuyasha merrily laughs, stretching out his arms on the table. His fingers drum around the cup. He tilts his head, gazing at my face. As he stares, the jaunty wrinkles slowly lapse back, the giddiness disappearing from the features. 

The people pass behind the windows of the coffee shop. 

“Are your scars okay?” 

I take another sip. “I drink the prescriptions, and they don’t bother me.” 

Inuyasha rubs his finger above his lip. “You have foam.” 

I quickly wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Better?” 

“Yeah, now yeah.” 

I nod and stare into my cup. My face poorly reflects in the brown. Inuyasha is still examining me with a partly-agonized, partly-longing expression. 

“Do you have anyone now?” I slightly jolt from suddenness and look up on him. After a short silence, I give a condescending smile. 

“I don’t have time for that.” 

Inuyasha clicks his tongue and shakes his head in disapproval. “You don’t have time for anything,” he grumbles. Yet I catch the slight relief in his voice. I don’t know whether I should feel happy or sad. 

“Inuyasha, this isn’t merely a catch-up session, right?” 

Inuyasha unnoticeably winces at my words, but quickly hides it with a grim smile. 

“I wish.” The words come out with a sigh. For a moment, Inuyasha chews on his lip, thinking where to begin, then gives another, even heavier sigh. 

“The Hokkaido police came across two shard possessors,” he quietly starts. I silently sip the coffee. Inuyasha scratches his head in frustration. 

“And they’re hosts as well.” 

“Hosts?” I echo. 

“Yeah.” Inuyasha grimaces. “The first ones since Naraku. As if things weren’t problematic enough.” 

“We only recovered incubated shards,” I absently say, folding the napkin in a thoughtless manner. “Never those from humans.” 

“Yeah, that bastard Naraku doesn’t let us even close to himself,” Inuyasha sniffs, propping his cheek on his fist. “What’s it to him? He has like ten, could’ve lent us one.” 

I silently agree. 

“And what about the two Hokkaido hosts?” 

Not moving his cheek from his fist, Inuyasha sighs. “They’re from the NPASB. Remember that seven-people unit that hung around the labs?” 

I’m quiet. I remember the specially-trained officers, always requiring our IDs. They got on Inuyasha’s nerves; it would take him a good whole two minutes to rummage through his uniform, finding his verification. I knew that I was passing new people each time only by the differences in height and width; otherwise they were dressed the same, and I never saw their faces. . 

“I see. It’s interesting how they got the shards.” 

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Inuyasha looks out the window, watching the people walk back and forth. I look out as well. 

“What does Taisho say?” 

Inuyasha inadvertently grins. “She’s grouching. Keeps on fretting that ever since we came into her division, the shards are all she ever hears about.” 

I curl my lip in slight annoyance. “It’s not our fault we were demoted here.” 

Inuyasha quietly laughs. “Of course not.” 

I thoughtfully tap on the cup, looking somewhere beyond his head. The timing was peculiar. Usually cases happen once or twice a year, and here are two almost back to back to each other. I frown. Everything - blatantly - pointed to Naraku. 

“Are you going to go?” 

“Don’t have much choice.” Inuyasha twists his cup, watching how the residue swirls around the curved edges. “Despite everything, NPASB doesn’t really want someone outside to investigate. They’ll do anything to keep the regular police out.” 

I mirthlessly smirk. “It sounds like we’re their secret agents. Were we really demoted, Inuyasha?” 

His eyes lift up on me, but then he broadly smiles. 

“Judging by my salary, yes.” 

My smirk relaxes, and I stand up. 

“Thanks for telling me. I know Taisho didn’t want me to know.” 

Inuyasha stands up as well. 

“You would’ve found out either way. Besides, it’s only fair,” he quietly adds. 

I silently drop the cup into the trash bin on my way out. 

***

The seagulls loudly squawked, dipping into the sea and flocking in circles. Kagura motionlessly sat on the rag blanket, digging the sand with her toes. Behind her lay a young man, propping his head on his hand and gazing on the parking lot in the distance. 

The grey beach, stinking of salt and seaweed, was empty. A plastic bag tumbled across the shore, pushed by the strong wind. 

The watch next to Kagura’s side frantically beeped. 

“Boom,” Kagura emotionlessly said. The young man, dyed purple hair passing across his face, didn’t react. Kagura turned the watch off.

***

Whenever we all gather in the superintendent's office, I always feel uninvited. 

Well, maybe because I slightly am. 

Kagome, being the Chief Inspector, is standing right in front of Taisho’s desk. From my seat, I can clearly see how tightly the young woman grips her hands behind her back. Miroku and Sango are on the couch across me. Miroku is relaxed, but the creased forehead betrays his concentration. On the other hand, Sango looks less stressed than usual; Kohaku was transferred to home arrest, and it seems some of his memories were coming back. Inuyasha is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over the chest. 

Taisho softly places the paper on the desk. Her eyes curiously pass over us. 

“Interesting,” she threateningly remarks. “This is the first instance of shards being implanted into people since... what was his name? Kikyo?” 

“Hitomi Kagewaki,” I quietly reply. His actual name feels uncomfortable on my tongue. For a moment, Taisho studies me, holding out the silence. I feel a blush running to my cheeks and wonder again if the older woman guessed my relationship with Naraku. Taisho looks away. 

“Yes, Hitomi.” She smiles for no reason. I self-consciously fix my leg over the knee. She definitely knew. 

“So, it’s the first case of hosts; furthermore, unlike Hitomi, they’re unauthorized.” A metallic undertone slices through her voice. “And almost immediately after we caught up on them, they escaped. A bomb set off during lunch and in the commotion, some tried escaping. Everyone was apprehended except the two.” 

A light-hearted grin curls her lips. 

“Well, for once it’s not us messing up.” 

Everyone is depressingly silent. The situation was amusing only to her, but she doesn’t really care for our reactions. Business-like, Taisho folds her hands on the table and glances up at us. 

“Questions, boys and girls?” 

“I have three,” Miroku tightly smiles. Taisho looks at him without blinking. 

“Go ahead.” 

“What are the hosts’ names, how were they discovered, and was the bomb culprit identified?” 

“Hamasaki Bankotsu and Shima Jakotsu,” the superintendent calmly replies. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Inuyasha inaudibly mutters. I don’t say anything, but the names are also unfamiliar. They could be any person on the street for all I knew. 

“The answer to the second question should be in the report.” 

“They were involved in a gunfight,” Kagome turns to Miroku. “On the second day of imprisonment, the health of the older one began rapidly deteriorating. No one really paid attention for nearly three weeks until last night when he was finally inspected...” 

“I presume he was almost dead at that point. We’re always slow when it comes to these matters.” Taisho mumbles without any sort of indignation. “Continue, Kagome.” 

“Yes, so...” For a second, Kagome hesitates, recollecting where she stopped. She remembers almost immediately. “The X-ray captured a shard inside the man’s neck.” 

“As for your last question, young man, all we know about the culprit is that he was highly equipped, wore a military...” she smirks. “.... uniform, and his face was fully covered. So in that sense, no, we didn’t identify him.” She suddenly tilts her head, resting her cheek on her fingers. 

“But is that important, young man?” 

“The bomber was probably helping the ex-officers,” Miroku leans forward, folding his hands in front of him, and looking straight at Taisho as he explained. 

“It’s safe to assume that the two are probably wherever he is.” 

“Hm.” Taisho scans him head to toe, then lightly waves her hand. “Well, you can test that theory once you get there.” 

“We’re allowed to go?” Sango quietly asks. “I thought the Hokkaido Police would object.” 

Taisho broadly grins. 

“Why, of course Ikeda-kun objects. It’s all right, though. I’ve set it up as another pathetic competition.” 

The superintendent demonstratively gestures and exaggerates her intonations. 

“ _ Receive my deepest condolences, Yuki-kun. Half of your building gone and two rebellious prisoners on the run... that must be an ass ton of work. I’ll send my boys over to help catch ‘em while you rake those bricks left over from the cafeteria... _ ” 

She giggles. We’re awkwardly quiet, not knowing how to react. When Taisho calms down, she gives a heavy sigh. Her features sink into tired seriousness. 

“Naturally, the NPASB doesn’t want more people knowing about the shards, Ikeda included. Especially since the hosts are out in the wild.” 

The superintendent leans back in her chair. 

“Something’s bound to be interesting. After all, it’s the first time we’re actually dealing with hosts and not stupidly rubbing elbows with Naraku.” Her eyes dart upwards. “I’m sick of listening to the higher-ups ranting about my incompetence. Get the shards, transfer them to the big bosses, and be done with them for the rest of the year. Understood? Well, everyone’s dismissed except Kikyo.” 

I don’t like the sound of her voice but remain calm. Kagome gives me a discreet thumbs up when she passes me, and I very slightly smile. Inuyasha tries to look calm as well, but his eyes are way too anxious. 

The door softly closes behind Sango. I stand up from the couch and walk over to the desk. 

“Yes, Superintendent?” I quietly say. Taisho looks up at me, twirling a pen in between her fingers. 

“Do you know why I’m giving you permission to go this time?” She pleasantly asks. 

My neck treacherously heats up, and I carefully manage my voice. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Wonderful,” the woman behind the desk beams. She lightly tosses the pen. “At least you’ll have some inside knowledge, maybe even on that bomber Miroku was so interested in. Do you have any thoughts on him by the way?” 

“It was probably Juuromaru.” I quietly say. “He’s the only one who has military expertise and can pull it off.” 

Taisho smirks and begins placing the papers back into the desk. 

“I see. In any case, take a different flight, I don’t want the heads accusing me of giving you information. You can go, Kikyo.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” I slightly bow and walk out of the room. 

Damn him, I think to myself in frustration as soon as I’m outside the building. He never lost sight of his priorities and, to tell the truth, he chose the moments extraordinarily well: we were both vulnerable after intimacy and it was a matter of who recuperates and reacts faster. 

I find the offices without much trouble. When the doorway butler steps over to me, I politely wave him away. At the elevator, I try not to push the button too hard. 

Despite everything, it hurt. More importantly, this hurt wasn’t supposed to come with my theoretical half-hearted affection that I gave him. 

“Floor thirty-six,” the automatic female voice dictates. The doors sweep open, and I quickly walk out. My eyes slant towards the view outside the large windows. It's unusual to see the bright sun and blinking windows; usually it’s night when I pass them, and the scenery is rather limited. 

I stop next to the large doors and, taking a deep breath, knock. For a moment, nothing happens, and then one door shyly pushes back. Little Kanna gazes at me in surprise. 

“Kikyo-san?” 

“Hello, Kanna,” I smile. “Is your father here?” 

“Oi kid, time for your geography lesson... well look at that. Kikyo-san, Kikyo-san, who taught you to come without invitation?” 

I glance over my shoulder. Byakuya is broadly grinning. He’s wearing a blue Hawaii shirt and looks extremely relaxed. A geographic magazine is tucked under his arm. 

“Good to see you, cop.” 

“Likewise.” I completely turn around to face him. “Where is Naraku?” 

Byakuya rubs the back of his head. 

“Man, Kikyo-san, you’re always so straightforward. I can never get a wholesome conversation with you... well, whatever.” He lowers his hand and looks straight at me. 

“Naraku went to Hokkaido.” 

“Hokkaido?” I repeat, caught completely unaware. Byakuya shrugs. 

“Departed this morning.” 

A cool palm timidly touches me by the wrist. 

“He told me where he stays. In case you ask.” 

Byakuya smiles. “Of course he did.” 

I look down at Kanna, then crouch down next to her. 

“Alright, little one. Hold on, let me get some things.” 

“Well, you girls do your thing, and I’ll be in the room,” Byakuya says as he passes us. He warningly lifts up the magazine. 

“We have geography, don’t forget!” 

“I won’t,” Kanna quietly says as I take out the phone book and pen out of the purse. I scratch it a couple times at the corner to refresh the ink and expectantly glance up at Kanna. 

“Go ahead.” 

“4401 Nagitsuji, Kushiro,” the girl softly speaks. “Hotel Fukio.” 

I finish the last kanji and hide the pen and notebook into the purse. Kanna watches me with wide eyes. 

“Are you also leaving?” 

“Yes,” I take her by hand and lightly squeeze it. “But I’ll try to come back soon.” 

Kanna nods. Her fingers uncertainly hug mine back. 

I desperately hope the business in Hokkaido will be quick. And, for once, successful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks!
> 
> Not a lot to add today except that the next two chapters (pretty sure) will be from Kikyo's perspective. I know, it's a lot of Kikyo in a row, but if I go into Naraku's POV, the plot will end in three second because the dude knows everything.
> 
> More Miroku, Sango, Inuyasha, and Kagome (and Byakuya lol)! Ngl, they're just as fun to write as the main characters.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Reviews are, as always, welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO FOLKS! 
> 
> Firstly, I find the interactions between Kikyo and Naraku very intriguing, even without any romantic undertones. I also found Kohaku's storyline very tragic and complex (like damn, the kid's been through stuff). So, I decided to mash two of my favorite dynamics into one fic cuz.... why not! I'm planning to update once a week but depending on how busy the schedule is, it may be every two. 
> 
> Secondly, I'm writing in first person (ngl it's weird, but I think it fits the story the most) and since I have three main characters (Kohaku, Kikyo, and Naraku), the perspective will change for each chapter. As you may have guessed, the prologue was from Kohaku's POV, but going forward I will put in the author notes who's speaking for what. 
> 
> Thirdly, comments, kudos, bookmarks are highly welcome! They're like... batteries. ;)))


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